


Brightest Day of Your Darkest Hour

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Big Brother Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Backstory, Kerberos Pilot Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Minor Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), platonic klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: (Alternate Universe) Pop wasn’t… he couldn’t be… Keith refused to believe it no matter what they told him, what reality said. It wasn’t true. Pop wasn’t d—But there was no denying that his life was changing around him and not for the better. He was being uprooted from all he had ever known and placed into the foster system hours away from home, from Pop, from… fromeverything.Well, that had been the original plan. A Galaxy Garrison cadet named Lance who Keith had just met days before had a different idea… and it was one that would forever change both of their lives.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Alternate Universe fic set pre-series. Keith is ten years old (approximate canon age of when his father dies) and Lance is seventeen years old (seven year gap putting him into Shiro’s place) although obviously this fic is starting before Keith ever meets Shiro’s character in canon. Due to this there is no Shiro in this fic; see character tags for included characters.  
>  **Warning notes:** None in terms of violence or typical warnings. Heavy themes though of loss and grief and recovery so bring tissues; I cried a lot writing this.

 

Keith swung his legs idly on either side of the beam surveying the hub of activity far, far below.

The Paulden Fire Station was putting on its annual toy drive for the Christmas holidays and while Keith had been more than happy to assist in setting it up he had no desire to be down there with the other kids as the toys were handed out.

He didn’t need one. He and Pop didn’t have a lot but he was happy with what they did have. And besides, he had no need for  any of those toys. He’d rather the other kids in the town and surrounding county got them and he found his happiness watching them open the gifts he and Pop and Dave, the other full-time firefighter at the department, had spent the last several days wrapping.

His gaze trekked from Alicia, she was in his class at school, opening up a drawing kit he had personally earmarked for her, and towards his pop, who was sporting a very fake looking Santa beard, and Dave with an elf hat and fake ears.

Both were laughing and red-cheeked and Keith felt his own smile grow.

There were a sprinkling of other people; the part-time volunteer firefighters, their families and a few others looking to help spread the holiday cheer, all decked out in a variety of Santa hats and reindeer ears that Mrs. McCaulhey had donated.

Keith touched the pompom on his own Santa hat with a soft smile. This was nice. Everyone was so happy and it was so peaceful, Christmas music playing from the fire engine’s speaker syste—

“Hey! Kid! _Dios!_ Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right there!”

And peace shattered.

Keith craned his neck around to see one of the volunteers, a student by the looks of him and wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas sweater and a Santa hat of his own, standing on the walkway that led to the support beams Keith had taken up residence on. Keith let out a silent snort. There was no way that guy was going to—

The teenager threw a leg over the wall.

Keith stared.

He’d stop there, Keith was certain. It was _dangerous_ to come out here. He’d call for help any second from one of the actually trained firefighters down below, Dave would make some joke about Keith being a cat caught up a tree again, and they’d tell the volunteer that Keith was just fine.

He did not call for help.

He started walking across the beam.

“H-hey,” Keith managed.

The idiot was going to fall. He was going to fall and go _splat_ and _die._

And it would be Keith’s fault.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Keith told him, shifting to turn around. “Please, go back—”

“Ah ah, I said no moving!”

And to Keith’s utter amazement the stranger _walked across the beam_ like it was a sidewalk rather than the barely foot-wide slippery piece of metal it was and then _sat down_ right behind him.

“Now don’t you worry,” the teen told him, one hand coming out to snake about Keith’s waist and wrap firmly about him. “I’ve got you. I’m gonna ease us back nice and sl—”

Keith slapped at the hand and was rewarded by a slight yelp and the hand retreated. He pulled his legs up from where they were dangling and _pivoted_ on his rear so he was now facing the lanky teen, who looking at him with an agape expression. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um…” the teenager blinked. “Rescuing you?”

Keith gave him a pointed look.

“But… you don’t need rescuing, do you?” An easy grin spread across the tanned face, highlighting dark blue eyes. “Sheesh, kid, what are you, part cat?”

“That’s what Dave says,” Keith shrugged.

“Dave… Oh! Lieutenant David Stevens? The elf?”

Keith let out a hum.

“Huh. Well,” the teenager held out a hand. “Anyways, I’m—”

“Lance!” screeched a voice from down below.

The figure held up a hand. “ _Un momento por favor.”_

And then he _flipped_ himself upside down the beam.

Keith let out a shout.

But the teenager —Lance, apparently —had his legs interlocked and wrapped tightly about one another and didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger of falling.

Keith let out a breath.

Who _was_ this person?

 _“_ Lisa _,_ _aquí arriba_!” he called down.

The woman Keith had tracked the voice too let out a yell and her hand flew to her heart. “Lance!  _¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Baja aquí ahora!”_

Keith heard laughter and Lance swung back up around.

“Looks like I gotta go, kid. Snack table apparently can’t run itself and I’d like to avoid giving Lisa a heart attack. She just gave birth to my niece last month and—”

“Lance!” shouted a deeper voice. “If you don’t get down here right now I’m telling Mamá!”

“And now she’s got Luis in on it,” Lance let out a sigh although the smile pulling up his face gave him away. “You be careful getting down, kid.”

He pulled himself carefully to his feet, perfectly balanced.

Keith couldn’t help but stare.

Not even the volunteer firefighters liked to come up this high and Dave only did it if he absolutely had to. His pop of course loved any sort of thrill and challenge and was the reason Keith had squirreled himself so often out onto the beams.

“Aren’t you scared?” Keith blurted out, feeling his cheeks darken as soon as the question was out.

The teen paused his walk and looked over his shoulder. “Of heights?” he clarified. “Nah. I’d be a pretty bad pilot if I was. _Adios,_ kid, and   _¡Feliz Navidad!_

A pilot?

This _kid_ was a pilot?

A real pilot?

Something Keith couldn’t quite describe burst in his chest, warm and awed and a touch of nausea mixed with excitement.

A pilot. A real pilot.

It was all Keith dreamed of being.

Keith stared at the spot Lance had been long after he’d hopped back over the wall and gone back down to the engine room floor. Purple eyes tracked him over to the snack and hot chocolate table where the man, Luis, who was no doubt an older brother, was digging a fist into Lance’s hair and holding him in a headlock although Lance was laughing and not doing anything to free himself.

A little boy ran at them and Lance then ducked out of the hold, scooping the kid up who even above the noise and music Keith made out “ _Tío_ Lance!” and thrust what looked like an action figure in the teen’s face, and began babbling a mile a minute.

“Keith!”

Keith’s eyes flicked over to where his pop was waving at him. “Come down here!”

Keith made his way back to the retaining wall, inching across the beam although he had the sudden urge to try and tightrope walk it like Lance had done. He resisted as then he’d be the one giving someone a heart attack.

He was back on the ground a few minutes later and Pop pulled him into a hug, fake beard tickling Keith’s face and he let out a small laugh, returning it.

“Presents are all out so I thought we’d help ourselves to some of the cookies and drinks, hm?” his pop suggested. “Besides, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Dave didn’t bake this year, right?” Keith clarified with a teasing grin.

“Hey! I take offense to that you brat,” Dave gave him a gentle knock to his shoulder and Keith grinned, sticking his tongue out. The paramedic firefighter’s cooking skills were legendarily bad and if it hadn’t been for Pop then Dave would be living on frozen dinners and takeout on Pop’s off days on the rotation.

“I made sure he didn’t touch a thing,” Pop assured, steering them towards the dessert table while Dave turned to talk with one of the part-time firefighters and her husband.

There was a small line at the table as people waited for hot chocolate or hot cider to be poured at the end. Keith took the time as they meandered to grab a few cookies and what looked like a piece of cinnamon bread studded with pecans.

When they reached the drinks Keith wasn’t surprised to see Lance there as he had said something about the snack table. He was surprised when Pop stopped them even as another volunteer gave them their cups of cider.

“Lance,” he said and the teen practically _snapped_ to attention, almost spilling a cup of hot chocolate he’d been in the process of pouring.

“Captain Kogane, sir,” and he _saluted._

Keith stared.

Pop laughed.

“I thought I told you we’re not much about formalities here.”

“I, I know, Sir. Um, Mr. Kogane. Um…”

Pop raised an eyebrow, the one with the rugged scar that he’d gotten before Keith was born during what he called a “most heroic and dashing rescue” and the effect of it was certainly there. Keith stiffled a laugh.

“Jace,” Lance said, pink highlighting dark cheeks. His eyes drifted to Keith and widened. “Oh! Is this your son?”

Pop’s hands descended on Keith’s shoulders. “My one and only. Keith, this is Lance. He’s a cadet at the Galaxy Garrison. In,” Pop’s voice dropped conspiratorially, “the fighter pilot program.”

Keith choked on his next breath.

“Yeah, we met,” Lance threw Keith a wink. “You failed to mention your kid’s part cat.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” Pop winked back and Keith felt his face heat at the gentle teasing although he was much, much too taken with what Pop had said to care.

A cadet. At the _Galaxy Garrison._ In the _fighter pilot_ program.

“Lance is home for the holidays, lives right here on the edge of Paulden, and contacted me to see if there was anything he could do to help around the station for the break,” Pop continued. “I may have been a little selfish and told him I had a son who would _love_ to hear about the program and talk to a real pilot.”

Keith found himself at a loss for words, tongue trapped in his mouth.

He was actually going to talk to a pilot. His mind flashed to his bedroom at the house, covered in Galaxy Garrison posters and maps of space and jets and mission launches and he let out a small choking noise.

“He’s not normally quite so shy,” Pop chuckled. “How about I relieve you of your hot chocolate duties and you two can talk for a bit before we close up here?”

“Sure thing, Cap— Er, Jace,” Lance corrected. He turned kind eyes towards Keith. “I’m all ears, kid. Let me just grab a plate.”

Within a couple minutes the two were sitting on the wide steps of the fire engine, Lance expertly balancing a plate of cookies on his knee.

“So,” he sent that easy grin at Keith that despite his sudden nervousness set him at ease. It was so… so _warm._ “What can I answer for you, kid?”

“Space,” Keith managed after a moment “Um, have you gone? To space?”

“Not yet,” Lance gave a dramatic sigh. “Next year though we get to take a transport to the moon and I can’t wait.” His eyes were practically sparkling and Keith was more than aware his were probably even more starry. “I just started my second year and right now the focus is on the fighter pilot simulations,” Lance continued, “which man, let me tell you are the coolest things in this world. See—”

For the next hour they talked, Lance regaling Keith with stories of the Garrison, of the simulators and answering Keith’s (very in depth) questions about the controls and different ships to the best of his ability, remarking that Keith seemed to know the ships even better than him.

Keith hung on every word.

This was the most amazing Christmas present he could have asked for; even better than the Space Center in Houston Pop had brought him down to last year for a combined birthday and Christmas present.

This was…

So _cool._

Lance was so cool.

And also a giant dork, breaking off on tangents to talk about anything and everything not relevant to the conversation from cafeteria food to the prank his nephew had played on him the other week to his mom’s cooking to video games  to had Keith seen that documentary on Kerberos? because Lance was going to apply to be its mission pilot in when it launched in eight years and keep his fingers crossed, okay?

When Pop collected him at nearing twenty-two hundred hours long after everyone save for Lance’s family members had left, with a rueful chuckle that it was time for ten-year-olds to sleep even if they didn’t have school tomorrow, Lance had offered to come by the station before he went back to the Garrison if Keith wanted to hear more.

The resulting exclaimed “yes!” had everyone still there laughing fondly and Lance had reached out and ruffled his hair through the hat and Keith hadn’t even been able to muster up the indignation the action should have brought on.

They’d bid quiet good nights, merry Christmases and _feliz Navidads_ sprinkling the air, and Keith had accepted a piggyback ride from Pop back to the living quarters of the station as now that the excitement was over he was realizing how tired he was, eyes drooping and warmed by both the cider and the memories.

“Have fun?” Pop asked quietly as he lowered Keith to the small twin bed set opposite his own in their small room, bathroom and kitchen and lounge outside and shared with Dave.

Keith let out a sleepy hum of affirmation.

Pop chuckled and tugged off his shoes and removed the Santa had, smoothing his bangs backwards, before drawing up the blanket.

“Sleep well, Keith.” A kiss brushed his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you, Pop,” Keith mumbled back, eyes already sliding shut.

His dreams were filled with space and flying and he _soared_ upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission fanfic (35k words) so I won’t give away too many plot details since this is going to be a long boi, but it’s an AU where in this universe Lance is taking the place of Shiro in Keith’s life and obviously there are going to be some big differences ;p We’ll get to follow them as they both grow and bond and then… when Lance goes to Kerberos. Dun dun dunnnn. I was given free reign under that concept so be prepared for some Icy headcanons that fit within the universe and a number of Easter Eggs to other fics of mine, notably the _Burning Bright_ series. If you spot one be sure to call it out! ;p
> 
> This is definitely different than anything I’ve ever written and Keith too is a very different character than what we have in canon as here he hasn’t undergone any of those trials and suffering and although it’s inevitable he’s going to lose his dad he’s going to have a very, very good support system with him from the start. I’m excited to take you all on this journey and hope you’re enjoying it.
> 
> If you are, **please leave a comment below.** Comments make an author’s day and we really, really appreciate hearing from readers and getting that love and appreciation. _Por favor y gracias!_


	2. Two

Keith woke to the scent of frying bacon and the soft strains of Christmas music coming from the lounge.

Christmas.

It was Christmas.

A smile tugged up his lips even as he remained in bed, blankets bundled to him that no matter how hard Pop tried to secure them beneath the mattress Keith pulled free.

It would be just him and Pop for the morning as Dave had gone to visit his sister a town over but would be back for dinner, which had been donated by several area families to their two full-time firefighters who didn’t really get days off, not even on Christmas.

But it was practically a day off to Keith, even if Pop was on call. They’d play games and sing and tell stories, and it…

It was all Keith could really ask for or wanted. Just to spend time with Pop.

As if summoned Keith heard footsteps outside the bedroom and his grip tightened on the bedding. As much as he wanted to spend time with Pop… his bed was extremely comfortable and he was not ready to get out of it quite yet.

“Kei-ith,” his pop sing-songed.

Keith buried his face in his pillow to hide his smile.

“Oh, is someone still asleep? On _Christmas morning?_ Well,” and Keith could almost hear his pop’s grin. “I have just the solution for that.”

Keith _shrieked_ with laughter as hands descended on his sides and dug beneath his armpits.

“No, no no!” he laughed, trying to bat Pop away without any success. “I’m up! I’m up!”

The hands tightened below his arms and Keith was hauled to sitting, hair and pajamas equally rumpled.

Pop jammed a Santa hat atop his messy hair and then pulled Keith into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas, son.”

“Merry Christmas, Pop.”

The smoke alarm beeped.

“Oh holy sh—” Pop released Keith from the embrace and dove for the door. “The bacon!”

Keith just shook his head. Irony would not begin to describe what would happen if Pop burned down the fire station. Especially if anyone was ever to do so it would be Dave.

Keith stopped at the bathroom first to freshen up before making his way to the small kitchenette, smoke cleared and extra crispy bacon awaiting on plates with pancakes and syrup and orange slices.

“Dig in, dig in,” Pop gestured to the spread. “And then, presents!”

“Pop,” Keith shot him a look as he pulled himself into the high-bar chair at the table.  “I told you—”

“Psh, I’m your father and I say on Christmas you need presents. I promise,” he made an ‘x’ across his chest, “I didn’t go too crazy. Subjecting that poor Garrison cadet to your questions was the worst of it.”

Keith stuck his tongue out. “That’s reassuring.”

“You’re too young to be worried about finances,” Pop teased. “At this rate you’re going to have gray hair by the time you’re eleven.”

Keith huffed and took a giant bite of pancake.

Pop ushered him into the lounge after they’d finished and washed up the dishes, carrying a plate of cookies and mugs of hot chocolate. The tree there was a small thing and sparsely decorated, but the lights were blinking cheerily on it and a small pile of wrapped gifts sat below its branches.

Pop raised an eyebrow at one. “I don’t remember wrapping that.”

“I got it for you,” Keith pulled it out with a smile.

“Keith—”

“Pop—”

“Come here,” Pop pulled him into a hug. “You little sneak, going behind my back are you?”

Keith just grinned.

Dave had tried to give him some money so he could get something, even something small, but Keith had turned him down. If he did get Pop a present he wanted it to be from _him._ So Dave had made him a deal; if Keith baked up a few pans of cinnamon buns for Dave’s sister, Sally, and her family he would pay him ten bucks and he’d up it to twenty if Sally called the station later and Keith told her that Dave had baked them himself (with supervision because she was no idiot).

Keith had happily agreed.

“Open yours first,” Pop said, even as he accepted the present, giving it a shake and then sniffing it dramatically as though he could figure out its contents.

Keith rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor next to the tree.

“Ah, not that one!” Pop called as Keith picked up a large box. “Save it for last.”

Keith put it aside and grabbed another.

Pop and he had very different definitions of “too crazy,” but Keith couldn’t deny that he _loved_ all of the gifts. There was a new deck of cards detailed with _hippos_ and Keith had almost cried upon opening it and Pop had been mum on where he’d found such a thing, a poster for Keith’s room of Saturn taken from a Galaxy Garrison satellite, a bag of chocolate covered pretzels (Keith’s absolute favorite) and a new notebook for school that was space themed. Pop told him to leave the one box alone for now and Keith’s curiosity was more than piqued but he did as asked.

Pop opened up his present then and he chuckled, holding the bag of (disgusting, Keith thought) cucumber and salt flavored popcorn bites up but his pop would talk about the (what he thought, unfortunately not true) expired flavor for hours and nearly wax poetry on it.  “Where on earth did you find these?”

“I have my sources,” Keith parroted back to him.

Pop laughed. “Fair, fair.” He opened the bag and dug a hand in and then turned it towards Keith. “Want some?”

Keith’s nose wrinkled. “You know the answer to that.”

“Your loss.”

Pop chewed his handful, making moaning noises of delight and Keith shuddered.

Disgusting.

Once he was done though Pop’s face sobered although there was still a smile on it. Keith cocked his head, feeling something bubbling in his stomach.

“Okay, now it’s time for the last present,” Pop nodded towards it. “Open it carefully.”

Keith pulled the heavy box over to him, sliding his finger beneath the paper.

The music turned from the peppy “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” to the more serious “Silent Night.” Keith somehow felt that it was appropriate.

This gift felt… heavy, and not just in its weight.

The paper revealed a shoebox for firefighter boots and Keith gently lifted the lid, setting it aside. He could feel Pop’s eyes trained intently on him and remembering the caution note he slowly shifted aside the tissue paper.

Below it was a knife.

And nothing like any he’d ever seen.

It was silver but he didn’t think it was metal; no actual shine or sheeting to it, and it tapered down to a wrapped handle that jutted out to the sides in an odd-shaped sort of hilt.

But it was the glowing mark, a strange shaped white squiggle against a dark purple background, that gave him pause.

_How_ was it glowing? What did it mean?

He carefully lifted it out of the wrapping and he swore he felt it hum in his hand. There was a sheath beneath it, black in design and again made of a material Keith didn’t quite recognize.

“I was going to give this to you for your birthday next year,” Pop said quietly and Keith looked up to meet serious but soft dark eyes, “but something told me that you were ready to have it now. It…” he swallowed. “It was your mother’s.”

Keith’s gaze darted back to the knife.

His… mother’s?

Pop never talked about her except to tell Keith that she had loved him so, so much and no matter what happened he always needed to remember that.

“She wanted you to have it,” Pop continued. “It has been in her family for generations and… and it belongs to you now.”

Keith felt a lump growing in his throat as he looked at it.

His mother’s blade.

She had existed.

He knew, obviously, he had come from somewhere but Pop wouldn't talk about her, there were no photos of her and Keith’s attempts at going to the courthouse had yielded no results for a marriage license. He didn’t even know her name. She had been a phantom to him, a title only, but this…

She had been here.

Keith swallowed, not sure if he should push his luck, especially when Pop looked so… so _sad,_ but…

“What was she like?” he whispered.

Pop patted the couch cushion next to him and Keith clambered up, still holding the knife very carefully by its hilt as even if it wasn’t metal he could tell it was sharp.

“She was the most amazing, gorgeous, intelligent woman I’ve ever met,” Pop said, draping an arm around Keith’s shoulders and tugging him in close. “She had the meanest right hook this side of the Rio Grande and,” he chuckled, “honestly probably the other side too. She was fierce with a temper to match but…” his voice lowered. “She was soft and gentle too and loved us with all of her heart.”

“Then…” Keith felt a lump building in his throat. “Then why did she leave us?”

“She had to,” Pop said quietly. “To protect us.”

“Protect us?” Keith repeated. “From _what?”_

What was out there that even Pop couldn’t protect them from?

“I’ll… I’ll explain that when you’re a little older,” and as much as Keith wanted to protest he held his tongue. Pop had already shared more in the last few minutes than he had Keith’s entire life and that silence had to be for a reason. Keith contented himself with knowing someday, eventually, he would find out more answers.

Pop let out a soft sigh. “Do you remember what I always tell you?”

“That she loved me very much.”

“Good boy.” Pop pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And that’s the truth.”

Keith glanced back down to the strange knife, at a small piece to the missing puzzle. “Will I ever meet her?”

“I hope so,” Pop said quietly. “I really hope so.”

“Do… do you have a picture of her?”

At that Pop let out a low chuckle. “‘fraid not. Your mom… she was a bit camera shy.”

Keith’s shoulders sunk. “Oh.”

“But I will tell you that you look just like her.”

Keith perked back up. “Really?”

“Mhm. You have her eyes. I remember I got lost in them when we first met. Sparkling as bright as the stars above. And your hair.” Pop reached over and tugged at the longer strands tickling Keith’s neck. “Oh, you definitely have her hair and style.”

Keith batted away the hand. “I like it.”

Pop let out a defeated sigh. “I know, son, I know. The barber knows very well too.”

Keith let out a small laugh.

“What else?” he pressed eagerly.

He was actually learning about his mom.

This was the best Christmas ever.

“Let’s see. Her face was like yours; I don’t think you're going to get my chin,” he thumbed Keith’s smaller, pointed one. “Her skin was… quite a bit darker,” and he let out a laugh at some unknown joke, “so you have that from me. But her laugh. You have her laugh.”

His voice was sounding wistful, sad, again and Keith’s smile turned down. He hadn’t meant to make Pop sad.

“Oh no you don’t,” strong fingers poked into his stomach. “I… I should have told this a long time ago. I’m sure she’d smack me if she found out you didn’t know the first thing about her.”

“And you’d go flying,” Keith said sagely, smile tilting his lips back up. “Your right hook stinks.”

“That hurts, Keith. That really hurts. And for that I’ll say this. There’s one thing you don’t have from either me or your mom. Height.”

“Ouch, Pop,” Keith grumbled. He knew he was a little small for his age, but he’d get there. He was certain. His pop was nearly six three and his mom had to be if she was considered tall, maybe five eight? He asked aloud and Pop chuckled.

“She was six seven.”

Keith blinked.

And then blinked again.

“What did you say?”

“Your mom was very tall.”

Keith just shook his head even as he felt hope bloom in his chest. He _had_ to get taller with that sort of height in the family. He was just a late grower, that was all. He’d catch up to his classmates soon enough.

“I can see the gears in your head turning. Don’t forget that my dad was barely five five. You might still be short and tiny yet.”

“Pop,” Keith moaned.

“But no matter what you grow to be you will always be my little boy,” Pop squeezed his shoulders. “All right?”

Keith snuggled against his chest in answer.

“Now about the knife,” Pop said. “I don’t know much about it, honest. I trust you though to be careful with it. No bringing it to school, no carrying it around outside the house or the station.”

“I won’t,” Keith promised. He was planning to keep it safe in his room, where he could pull it out and hold the handle and know his mom had done the same once upon a time.

“Good boy. Now, let’s clean up this mess and test out that new deck of yours, huh? I’m feeling lucky for go fish today.”

“I think you’re going to go down.”

“Ooh, tough talk, son. Back it up with some cards now.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in card games and cookies and an impromptu karaoke to the radio which Dave had walked into — Keith standing atop the couch and belting into a slipper and Pop holding up his bag of popcorn and doing the same — shrugged, and joined them with a microphone made of a banana, and ended with the Christmas dinner and Keith curled up on the couch between Pop and Dave sleepily watching Pop’s all time favorite Christmas movie, “How the Grinch stole Christmas” with Jim Carrey. He always cried during ‘Where are you Christmas?’ and every year used Keith’s hair to dry his tears to much laughter from Dave and weak protests from Keith.

As Pop tucked him into bed, going to go back out with Dave to open the bottle of brandy Sally had sent over, Keith had snuggled his blankets and Santa hat to him and smiled at the knife sitting on his nightstand.

This had been the best Christmas ever.

xxx

The station alarm was blaring.

That in itself was nothing new, not even at the hour and despite Keith’s generally sensitive hearing he could sleep through the worst of them, normally rolling right back over, but this time something was keeping him awake.

Maybe it was the sound of Dave yelling? He sounded louder than normal. Keith blinked open tired eyes, seeing his pop in the process of pulling on his undersuit before he would don the heavier fire gear down below, muttering below his breath.

“Pop?”

Pop paused in buttoning his jacket in the barely there lighting and came over to Keith’s beside. “Shh, go back to sleep, Keith,” Pop murmured, carding a hand through his bangs. Keith hummed, eyes already closing. Pop bent down and pressed a kiss to his head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised softly.

xxx

xxx

xxx

He never came back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. Bring tissues, it’s gonna get really teary in here. But hey, some Christmas time fluff before… you know.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments last chapter. As you can see you got a bonus update out of it :D Please do drop a comment below! I love to hear from my readers; favorite line, moment, scene, piece of dialogue, fluffy moment… feed the author please and thank you ♥
> 
> (Also, I'm hosting a fanart of my fanfiction contest over on my [Tumblr, icypantherwrites](http://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com/post/178700217229/icypanthers-fanart-of-fanfiction-contest), where you can win a fanfic by moi! If it's your cup of tea do check it out!)


	3. Three

 “—and then there is the matter of your father’s estate. It will be held in the state’s—”

Keith could hear Carol, the woman who had introduced himself as his social worker, talking but the words were static in his ear.

The last few days had been like that.

He preferred it that way.

He didn’t…

Couldn’t…

This couldn’t be real.

He’d been awoken by Danny, one of the part-time volunteer firefighters, an older man that could give him ten years could be Keith’s grandpa. He’d clearly come from a fire as although he’d washed up and was out of his uniform Keith could smell the smoke.

Danny had never visited the living quarters before.

Keith’s stomach had bottomed out and he’d asked, voice higher than he’d like, where his pop was.

And Danny had closed his eyes and bowed his head.

 _“Your pop went back into the home even after it was fully engulfed,”_ he’d said quietly, reaching out and holding Keith’s hands between his own. _“There was a little girl trapped inside and he… the roof collapsed. I’m so sorry, Keith. He… He didn’t make it.”_

Keith had wrenched his hands free, denial on his lips. No. That was wrong. That had to be wrong.

His pop couldn’t have…

He wouldn’t have…

Danny said it was a hero’s death. His pop had rescued two people from the burning house before going back in for the little girl who had been trapped in the nursery.  They’d begged him not to but when there were people in trouble Jason Kogane was not a man that could be reasoned with, Danny had said, a watery smile on his face.

The little girl made it, he’d told him. His pop had shielded her with his body and she would be okay.

Dave was hurt too, Danny relayed. He had tried to go in after Pop and had barely cleared the front door when the frame had begun to collapse. He was currently in the hospital, still unconscious, but Danny had told him he was going to pull through.

Keith didn’t believe it.

He didn’t believe any of it.

He’d demanded to see his pop, where was his pop? Danny was _lying,_ his pop was fine, he’d just been here, it was _Christmas,_ he was fine, he had to be fine, he couldn't be… he couldn’t be…

Keith couldn’t even say it even though it wasn’t true.

Danny had sat with him, blocking the door so Keith couldn’t leave the room and go down below, taking Keith’s small fists against his chest until Keith had tired of it and had collapsed against the older man, who’d hugged him tight and rocked him.

Keith must have fallen asleep, somehow, as when he awoke he was back in his bed and afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the window.

He’d prayed it was a nightmare.

It wasn’t.

The nightmare was just starting.

He’d come out of the room to find the woman he now knew as Carol sitting in the lounge with Danny. She’d introduced herself as being from the Arizona Department of Child Safety and that she was now his caseworker and he, given the death of his father, was now a ward of the state.

Keith had yelled at her, told her she was a liar, and stormed back into his and Pop’s room.

He’d spent all day in there, minus sneaking out for a trip to the bathroom, curled up on Pop’s bed and smelling his aftershave and holding Pop’s pillow to his chest.

He didn’t cry.

There was nothing to cry over.

Pop wasn’t…

He was just…

Just at the hospital. Like Dave. And he would come home soon.

By the next morning though Keith had to face reality.

But he still wouldn’t acknowledge it.

He’d come out of his room and gone to the kitchen where Danny and Sally, Dave’s sister, were sitting.

 _“Oh, sweetie,”_ Sally had murmured, getting out of her chair.

Keith had accepted her hug, had put his arms around her but…

He didn’t feel it.

It was like his body had turned to wood.

He saw the actions, he didn’t process them.

He had asked how Dave was. It was the only thing he had spoken since accusing Carol of lying.

Sally had told him Dave was still at the hospital in a medically induced coma; he’d taken a knock to the head from the collapsing building that even his hat hadn’t fully protected him from and the doctors were worried about swelling in the brain, but he was going to be okay. He was to wake up early next week and he’d… he’d love to see Keith.

Danny had gently explained as Sally served bacon —too soft, not crispy enough — onto his plate that the Department of Child Safety would be coming back to talk to Keith and for now, until arrangements were finalized, he was being allowed to stay at the fire station under adult supervision.

But…

But it could not be permanent.

Even when Dave returned he could not stay.

It had been illegal to have Keith there as it was, and when Danny had explained how otherwise Keith would have been home alone at a house in the middle of the desert over five miles from town, Carol had said then perhaps his father should have taken a different job and then she would not even be here right now.

Natalie, one of the part-time firefighters, had slapped Carol and stormed out.

Keith felt the barest flicker of _something_ pool in him at the story.

He felt nothing else after that.

He didn’t want to eat, he couldn’t sleep, he just…

He just wanted Pop.

That had been four days ago.

Today was the day of the funeral.

Keith refused to call it that.

Carol had cleared the other firefighters out, who told him they would see him at the service, and had been trying to explain the finer points of what was happening as Keith had actively been avoiding her and she had not had the chance to previously.

The gist he’d gotten was he was a ward of the state now and as such he was going to be put into their care and into a group home.

In Phoenix.

Over two hours away.

It’s not that Keith had a lot of school friends, but he had acquaintances he liked and he had Dave and this was home and…

And it didn’t matter.

Carol had said, ice blue eyes as chilly as her, that there was the possibility of Keith being placed into a foster family who would then be responsible for him. He’d tuned her out shortly after that as she went into life insurance policy details, something about him being eighteen, and then property and assets.

 _“You’re too young to be worried about finances,”_ Pop had teased over Christmas morning breakfast.

He’d been right.

Which meant all of this was wrong.

“—Keith, are you even listening to me?—”

It had to be wrong.

This was still a nightmare. If he just focused hard enough he would wake up.

“—Are you understanding a word that I’m saying?—”

He hadn’t said it yet.

If he hadn’t said it then it wasn’t true.

All of this was—

“Keith!” and the sound of a hand striking the kitchen table had Keith startling.

Carol fixed her gaze on him. “Have you heard anything I just said? I’m trying to prepare you for—”

“Carol, that’s enough,” cut in another voice, younger. Keith tracked eyes to the other member of the Department of Child Safety who had quietly introduced herself to him as Aimee that morning and had been standing back in the corner of the kitchen.

Carol’s nose flared. “Excuse me? Aimee, you forget your place. You are in training and on probation and are here to _observe_ only. _I_ am his case worker, not you.” Carol’s voice was like shards of ice.

“I understand, ma’am, but I don’t think this is the time or place right now. We have an entire car trip back to Phoenix, we can discuss the details then. Let’s…” Warm cinnamon eyes framed by curly hair looked at Keith. “Let’s focus on Keith right now.”

“It sounds like you’re volunteering.”

“I am,” Aimee said softly but firmly.

“This will be marked on your evaluation.”

“Noted.”

Carol’s nose flared again. “Fine. I shall drop you both off at the service and return here to finish up the paperwork. We will go from the service to the residential address of the Koganes’ so Keith may retrieve some additional clothes and then we are leaving. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Aimee stepped up to Keith then and placed a light hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get to the car.”

Aimee was definitely kinder than Carol, but at this point Keith didn’t really care.

He just…

Just wanted to go home. With Pop.

And she was still going to take him away.

The drive to the cemetery was silent, Keith in the backseat and the two social workers up front. When he got out of the car it was to see a giant grouping of people all dressed in shades of black and navy and some wearing light coats against the somewhat chilly fifty degree day.

There were so many.

Aimee ushered Keith along the cobblestone path, past faces he vaguely recognized; shop owners and the barber, classmates and their families, the firefighters, members of Paulden’s police force.

The only face though Keith wanted to see was Pop’s and he wasn’t there.

Neither was Dave although Sally was. She’d sent word earlier that morning that Dave wasn’t going to be able to make it; he’d been awoken from the coma that morning and but was unconscious again and wouldn’t wake until the next day.

Keith realized he wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye to the man who had become an uncle, had become family to them both.

He wondered if he’d ever see Dave again.

Probably not.

Keith didn’t remember much of the funeral service. They’d invited him to speak at one point but he’d just shook his head and Danny had held his shoulders tight, the only thing keeping Keith standing. Others had spoken; firefighters and people his pop had helped.

Including the family he’d saved.

Keith had stared with dry eyes as the mother, sporting bandages all over her arms, had spoken, crying, thanking “Captain Jason Kogane” for what he had done for their family. There was a little girl in the audience with them.

Keith knew without a doubt she had been the one his pop had gone back in for.

He was grateful she was alive.

But…

But nothing. Because Pop wasn’t…

He hadn’t seen a body.

That meant…

That had to mean...

Natalie had presented Keith with Pop’s helmet, cleaned up but still stained with soot and dented.

Keith clutched it like he did his blankets.

He still didn’t cry.

There was no sense in crying.

He was just…

Just going to hold onto it until Pop was ready to wear it again.

There’d been a salute, the priest had read something, the American flag that had been draped over the casket had been folded and Danny had knelt, offering it to Keith.

He’d taken it robotically and held it with the helmet.

Then they’d lowered the casket. Keith had been presented a dark crimson rose and gently instructed to throw it into the grave.

He had.

He’d stood to the side as dozens of others joined it, scarlet and crimson and burgundy.

It almost looked like a sea of flames.

Keith had closed his eyes.

The firefighters had covered it with dirt, the priest had spoken a few more words and then…

That was it.

Faceless people were coming up to Keith, offering condolences and a few hugs that he couldn’t return, couldn’t even feel. Sally told him to call her once he was settled, Danny the same and to send his new address, to call if he needed _anything_ although Keith knew it wasn’t that simple.

There was nothing they could give him.

The only thing he wanted was Pop.

They all trickled away then, gathering in group at the bottom of the hill and saying their goodbyes to one another until it was just Keith standing at the mound with Aimee a respectful distance behind him.

He didn’t…

He didn’t know what to do.

Was he supposed to say something?

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t remember how to talk.

When _had_ he last spoken?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

“Keith,” Aimee’s voice cut through the deepening quiet. “It’s time for us to—”

“Keith!”

Keith kept his eyes fixed on the headstone, the words blurring on it even though he wasn’t crying.

He was just tired.

Being in a nightmare was tiring.

“Keith!” The voice was closer now, louder and yet softer at the same time.

Someone touched his shoulder and Keith turned his head slightly, wondering who it was now.

A pair of dark ocean eyes stared back.

For the briefest second he thought they were Pop’s but these were a touch too dark, more blue than gray.

Lance, he identified. The Garrison cadet. He was kneeling in the dirt next to him, smudges already on his dress slacks.

Keith returned his gaze back to the mound.

“Keith, kid,” a dark hand touched on his cheek and his head was turned in Lance’s direction.

Keith blinked.

Lance’s hand…

Felt _warm._

It was the first time anyone had touched his face or head since Pop had placed a kiss upon it before he headed out, Keith realized. There had been hugs and shoulder squeezes but… but nothing quite so…

Without meaning to he leaned into the touch and the next thing he knew Lance’s other hand was snaking about his shoulders and tugging him into a hug while the hand on his cheek moved to cup the back of his head.

Keith shakily returned the embrace, the helmet being pressed into Lance’s back and no doubt hurting but he said nothing.

Keith’s arms didn’t feel quite so wooden that time.

He could feel Lance look past him towards Aimee. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lance said quietly.

“Oh,” Aimee sounded surprised. “I… I’m sorry, I’m not with the family.”

Lance’s arms tightened ever so about Keith.

“She’s…” Keith swallowed, words tasting dry on his tongue. “She’s a social worker.”

He didn’t know why that was what he chose to say after days of silence.

“A… social worker?” Lance repeated.

Keith could almost hear his frown.

“Yes,” Aimee clarified. “I’m with the Arizona Department of Child Safety. Keith… he has no living relatives and so he’s become a ward of the state.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“A family friend,” Lance responded promptly. Keith stiffened ever so in his grasp.

What… what was Lance doing? One conversation about the Galaxy Garrison didn’t make them friends and barely even acquaintances and yet…

Yet somehow Lance was the first person to question any of it other than Natalie’s reported outburst and that had been against Pop’s name.

His own hands tightened around Lance and he felt himself shake.

“So what does that mean?” Lance repeated his question. “A ward of the state?”

“We’re leaving for Phoenix,” Aimee said slowly, “where Keith will enter into a group home until a suitable foster family can be found. He’ll remain in those circumstances until he turns eighteen and is legally an adult.”

“You’re going to take him away to Phoenix?” Lance clarified and his disbelief was clear. “Look, ma’am—”

“Aimee.”

“Aimee, he’s… he’s been through a lot.” Keith trembled in Lance’s arms, not sure what the strange feeling rolling in his stomach was. “Taking him away from his home is—”

“Aimee!”

Keith winced at the frosty tone.

Carol was here.

“We were to be en route to Phoenix an hour ago,” Carol said, shoes tapping angrily on the cobblestones. “We still have to return to the residence and—”

“Keith’s not going to Phoenix,” Lance interrupted her tirade.

Keith could hear her nose flare. “Excuse me?”

“He doesn’t want to go.” Lance pulled Keith back from the embrace but settled his hands on his shoulders. Dark eyes met Keith’s own. “Do you?”

Keith mutely shook his head.

No.

No he didn’t want to go.

This was home.

This was where Pop was bur—

Where Pop was.

“It is not a matter of want, young man. Keith is a ward—”

“It’s cadet, actually,” Lance interrupted her again. His tone had turned cooler.

Somehow Keith still felt warm.

Lance rose from his kneel and turned to Carol, blocking Keith from seeing her unless he were to sidestep as though shielding him from a potential threat.

Keith’s breath hitched.

“Second year Galaxy Garrison Cadet Lance Esposito,” Lance introduced himself with a salute. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Keith could hear Pop’s teasing tone from the toy drive. _“I thought I told you we’re not much about formalities here.”_

And they weren't. But the Garrison was. Carol’s agency _was_.

And even though Lance was still a student it still meant something. Even a cadet had standing in the outside world, that’s how renowned the Garrison was. The background checks even students had to go through, the backing they had to have either financially from home or from scholarships given to the most worthy secured their enrollment and thus secured their status.

Lance hadn’t seemed the type who really cared about his rank at all, barely even mentioning it when he’d talked to Keith except to say he was a second year. And now he was flashing his title.

It had a reason.

Keith felt his heart begin to thump a little louder.

Carol’s tone had turned more formal. “Cadet, there are protocols that are in place for circumstances such as young Keith’s here. I am sure someone of your caliber understands such.”

“Of course,” Lance said evenly. “But I’m asking you to reconsider. What if I told you there was a family right here that would be more than willing to take Keith in and be his foster family?”

Keith very carefully shifted so he could make out a glimpse of Carol, who had her lips pursed. “Our records do not indicate any foster families in the Paulden area.”

“Not yet,” Lance replied. “But my family would be more than happy to have Keith stay with us. If,” he turned to meet Keith’s wide purple gaze, “Keith would like to.”

Keith felt like the ground was shifting below him.

What…

What was happening?

He’d never even _met_ Lance’s family, barely knew Lance and yet...

Yet…

Lance would do this? For him?

For a kid he’d met a couple days ago when not a single firefighter he’d known for _years_ had stepped up to offer the same?

Keith felt his throat closing up.

He managed a nod.

Lance turned back to Carol. “And there you go.”

“Cadet, I cannot simply—”

“Let me call my mom,” Lance said, hand fishing into his back pocket. “She’ll come out here, you can meet her, sign whatever paperwork needs signing and done. As you might have already guessed, my being with the Garrison and all, my family had to go through a background check too. Doubly so, actually, as my sister is an officer with the Garrison, Sergeant Veronica Esposito.”

Keith’s knees felt weak.

How…

How many names and titles could Lance drop in one setting? While sergeant was still a lower rank it _was_ a named position and carried quite a bit of weight, especially here were the Garrison was just an hour out and its shadow was long.

Carol seemed to be reeling a bit too. “Very well,” she coughed. “But we do not have long for delays.”

“Won’t be a problem.”

Lance turned back to Keith. “Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He stepped off to the side then, phone to his ear. A moment later Keith could hear rapid-fire Spanish, pauses, more Spanish, his name, the word Garrison, his name again and then more Spanish.

None of the social workers moved during the entire exchange; Carol seeming frozen and Aimee looking more than a bit flabbergasted.

Lance strode back over within the minute. “She’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. If that’s all right with you, ma’am?”

Carol inclined her head. “That is acceptable. I shall await her arrival by the car.”

“I’ll… I’ll go too,” Aimee said. As she passed by Keith she gave his shoulder a small squeeze and a smile turned up her lips.

It was just the two of them now on the silent hill.

“I’m sorry if that was a bit much,” Lance apologized quietly, turning to him with that still cool colored but warm gaze. “But you looked like you… you really needed someone to...”

Someone to speak up for _him_.

Someone to _be there._

Someone to not _leave_.

Keith moved without realizing he was doing so, arms wrapping about Lance’s waist and pressing his face against Lance’s chest, the buttons of the dress shirt stabbing his cheek but he didn’t release his grip even as he felt the helmet sliding and the flag dropped from his fingers.

“Oh, kid,” Lance’s arms circled about his shoulders. And just like he had on the beam Lance murmured, “I’ve got you.”

This time Keith didn’t pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am killing myself slowly. Number of Easter Eggs in here to my own works and headcanons, Carol is designed after my boss (lucky me xD) and also a nod to one of the most tear-jerking movies in existence, A Little Princess; did you catch the reference?
> 
> Also, it always bothered me in the fact of what I know of fire station brotherhoods that *no one* offered to take Keith in. Like, what? Seriously? Good thing Lance is here in this universe to intervene; and of course he’d go to the funeral to pay his respects. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy. Look at him being a good boy. My heart. Hug that child, Lance. He needs all the hugs.
> 
> And the author needs all the comments, if you’d be so kind. Please leave a nice one before you go; a favorite scene, line, dialogue, a detail that jumped out at you… please and thank you!


	4. Four

Lance’s mom was… a lot like her son, Keith determined very quickly.

She had pulled up in an older sedan and there was no mistaking her as even though she wasn’t the same mocha colored skin as Lance she had the same warm but dark ocean eyes and a kind face that could not hide her growing ire as Carol explained the situation and how paperwork would need to be done and it could take several weeks to process and while she appreciated the offer Keith would be better off staying at the group home in the interim and then returning if it was all cleared and processed and _if_ she still wished to be a sudden foster parent. It appeared Carol had regained her footing from the stumble Lance had sent her into in during the break time.

Lance’s hands had been steady on Keith’s shoulders during the exchange and they were the only thing keeping Keith standing as his future wavered in front of him.

“This boy needs a home, yes? I am offering, yes? What is the problem?” Lance’s mom snapped, her accent thick. She turned to Lance, eyes sparking. “ _¿Cuál es problema de ella?”_

 _“Demasiados para decir,”_ Lance replied and his mom let out a bark of laughter.

“There is protocol to follow—”

“Bah to protocol,” she waved a hand. “I said yes, did I not?”  She turned to Lance again. "¿ _Ella no entiende su propio idioma? ¿Y ella es responsable de los niños?_ Hah!” Her voice lowered, more solemn but no less fierce. _“Esos pobres niños. No la dejaré herir a esta. Él ha sido herido lo suficiente.”_

“ _Sí_ ,” Lance said quietly, agreeing. He looked to Carol, eyes hard. “My mom says she has already agreed to be a foster parent several times now and her answer is not changing.”

Keith had a feeling that hadn’t exactly been what was said but neither Carol nor Aimee seemed to understand Spanish either and so they couldn’t argue.

“This is hardly standard procedure,” Carol sputtered.

“And this isn’t a normal circumstance,” Lance said although Keith could feel the hiss of frustration starting to brew behind his calm at Carol’s obstinance to adhere to the rulebook.  He took a deep breath that Keith felt through his own body. “Please. My family wants to do this for Keith. You can make whatever stipulations you need until it’s all official and the like, but… but Keith has been through enough, don’t you think? Don’t take him away from his home too.”

“I think it is a reasonable solution,” Aimee put in in the ensuing silence.

Carol turned on her.

“The home is at capacity and we both know it’ll be _weeks_ maybe even months until we can find a foster placement,” Aimee said, not backing down. “We have a local family right here, already cleared by some of the highest security clearance in the country, willing to go through the foster program process and house him. I see no reason why we can’t work within these parameters.”

Lance grinned and it was a tad sharp. “Thank you, Aimee.”

“Yes, _gracias,”_ Lance’s mom said. “One of you speaks sense.”

Carol looked like she had sucked on a lemon.

Keith wished he could laugh, he knew Pop would be in stitches, but his lips remained a thin line.

His chest hurt.

He clutched the helmet and the flag Lance had refolded for him tighter.

“I will contact my supervisor,” Carol said stiffly. “But there is still the matter of ensuring the home is a safe pla—”

“Come see it then,” Lance’s mom interjected. “Come. It is just down the road. Come see. Make your call. You will see.”

“I can take Keith to his house while you do that,” Aimee offered. “And at least he’ll have his things no matter what outcome.”

“One hour,” Carol said, arms crossed over her chest.

 “I’ll come with,” Lance said, already opening the back door to the agency’s sedan. He sent a smile to Keith. “You all right if I ride with you, kid?”

Keith mutely nodded.

“ _Bueno._ Then you are with me,” Lance’s mom placed a hand on Carol’s arm. “This way.”

Lance snickered beneath his breath, out of hearing range of the adults as he was in the car, at Carol’s affronted expression as she approached the sedan.

Keith felt his lips try to twitch up.

They fell short.

The ride to his pop’s house was made in silence, but it wasn’t quite the frosty one of the trip to the service. Lance had placed a light hand on Keith’s shoulder and his thumb was making small circles over the stiff formal black jacket Danny had bought for him yesterday.

Keith hated it.

He still didn’t take it off.

The pulled up in front of the modest two-story, wide porch beckoning. Keith swallowed the lump trying to form again in his throat.

He was just…

Just picking up a few things. For a sleepover. Just like the camping trip last summer that his pop had insisted he go on to, “ _have bonding moments with the other kids, it’ll be good for you!”_

He’d be back soon.

Once Pop was…

Was better.

Aimee had the key and she opened the front door.

Keith went inside and beelined up the staircase for his bedroom.

Neither Lance nor Aimee followed.

He had never been one for knick-knacks and so there wasn’t much to pack that hadn’t already been in his duffel from the fire station that contained his current clothing stash and his few games…

And the knife.

He’d hidden it inside a pair of socks as something told him if Carol found it she would confiscate it.

His room at the house though had a few more things; posters and a picture of him and Pop sitting together on the couch, Keith tucked up in his lap as they read a book together. Dave had taken it without either of them noticing and had surprised Keith with it for his birthday last year.

Keith wrapped it carefully in one of his sweatshirts and placed it into the suitcase he pulled out of his closet that he’d never used but Pop said one should always have a good piece of luggage.

He packed what clothes he liked and that would fit into most of the remainder but stood on the bed and retrieved a few of his favorite posters from the walls, rolling them carefully. His schoolbooks he hadn’t had at the station were jammed into the outside pockets and Keith hefted the suitcase up onto its wheels.

He didn’t know how he was getting it down the stairs.

He parked it at the top for the moment and slipped into Pop’s bedroom, immaculate as always.

Keith crawled into the giant king bed where he had spent many a night snuggled to Pop’s side on colder evenings or in the event of a particularly bad dream.

It smelled just like him.

Keith took a pillow.

He also grabbed Pop’s aftershave and favorite cologne — the one that smelled like leather and spices and oranges — but mostly smelled like Pop.

When he emerged from Pop’s room, quietly shutting the door behind him and feeling it thud as much as his heart, it was to see Lance standing at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hey kid,” he called up gently. “Can I help you with that?”

Keith nodded.

Lance didn’t say anything else as he took the suitcase, face scrunching up a bit as he went to heft it down, and Keith followed, clutching the pillow with the bottles nestled inside of it.

There was a cooler that Keith recognized from hiking picnics sitting by the door and it looked like the fridge and freezer had been emptied even though there hadn’t been much.

There was however a wrapped coffee cake sitting on top.

Pop had baked it last week. It was one of his specialties.

Keith felt the lump come back, his eyes stinging.

No.

No crying.

Nothing to cry over.

Lance sat in the backseat with Keith again, the suitcase in the trunk, silent again save for Lance giving Aimee directions to his home. Almost twenty minutes later they were swinging onto a long, bumpy driveway that led to a ranch-style house, flowers lining the walkway up to a large porch settled with wicker chairs and a porch swing.

“Come on,” Lance said, placing one hand on the small of Keith’s back. “Let’s go inside.”

He grabbed the suitcase on their way up, a silent note of confidence that Keith would not be getting back into that car, along with the duffel.

Keith clutched the pillow and helmet, flag put inside the pillow case, and Aimee secured his backpack from the station and the cooler.

“Mamá,” Lance called, pushing open the door and sending the hot scent of cinnamon and peppers wafting. “ _Estamos aquí.”_

_“¡En la cocina!”_

Lance left the suitcase by the door and Aimee followed his lead with a grateful sigh. Keith hesitated and Lance gently pivoted him so he was facing a small table where a bowl for keys sat and he shoved it over to the side.

Keith reverently placed the helmet and then put the pillow atop the suitcase.

Lance led them down a narrow hallway adorned with what looked like family photos and they emerged in a bright but tiny kitchen done in cheery yellow with sunflower accents and white tile.

Carol was sitting at the table too large for the space and taking up the majority of the walking room, paperwork spread out before her that Lance’s mom was signing.

Keith’s breath caught.

Was…?

Was he actually going to stay here?

“Keith, sit,” Carol instructed, gesturing at the chair across from her and next to Lance’s mom.

Keith did so with a small thump.

“The agency has conditionally approved the Espositos as your current foster family. Until it is official you will be required to check in with the Phoenix office daily between the hours of four p.m. and eight p.m. If you miss a check in we will send someone and you will be collected.”

Lance’s mom let out a low mutter at that but continued to sign through the forms.

“I will remain your case worker and I will be conducting check-ins every four months upon the conditional offer. If I find anything lacking you will be collected.”

The pen stabbed through one of the papers with a pointed tear.

Carol ignored it. Lance placed a hand on his mom’s shoulder with a soft murmur.

“This is the agency’s phone number, both the office and the twenty-four hour service as well as my extension,” Carol slid them across the table. “You are to call the twenty-four hour line if you call after six p.m. or if there is an emergency and you need immediate assistance.”

Keith raised eyes to Carol’s icy blue. They were still hard but there was a crease in the corners that he didn’t think was anger.

He wondered how many kids she had just like him to take care of.

He understood a bit more.

He still didn’t like her.

“Maria,” and that must be Lance’s mom, “will be handling all of your paperwork and financials once her foster application is approved. You will remain a ward of the state until you turn eighteen and as such all property will remain ours as well until that time when it will then be re-deeded over to you along with your father’s life insurance policy. Those details can be discussed later when you are older.” Her gaze bored into Keith’s. “Any questions?”

He shook his head.

“Is this arrangement acceptable to you?”

A formality over any personal preference, he knew.

Keith nodded.

“Then everything is settled.”

She turned to Maria. “You should hear back from myself or my supervisor within the next two weeks with your application status as it is being rushed due to… circumstances.”

“I thank you,” Maria said. “And here, your papers.” She shoved the stack across the table. “We are done now?”

“You understand what you are doing?” Carol asked. “You are committing to providing a home to Keith and will be fully responsible for _anything_ that—”

“Yes, yes,” Maria interrupted. “You see him?” She pointed to Lance who gave a small grin and a wave. “Four more just like him. I am a good mother, Ms. Carol, I do so for him too.”

There was a fierceness, a pride in her voice just asking for Carol to argue.

Keith wondered if all moms were like her.

Loss stabbed painfully again; both for what he’d never had and what he’d los—

No.

He hadn’t lost anything.

“Then we are done,” Carol stood. “Aimee, let us go.”

Aimee slid around where she had wedged herself into the corner between the table and a back door. She didn’t say anything but gave Keith’s shoulder a small squeeze as she passed.

The three remaining kitchen occupants remained in silence as the front door opened, closed, and then the sound of the car rumbled.

“Well,” Maria stood up as well from the table, brushing her hands. “There.”

She turned to Keith and the hard lines in her face had smoothed out but despite her efforts Keith could see her sadness that matched the same look in Lance’s eyes.

He swallowed thickly again.

“I am Maria,” she said. “No Mrs. Esposito, no _Señora_ Esposito, _entiendes_? Understand? No formalities here.”

Pop would have really liked her. The thought was fleeting and to Keith’s alarm he felt his eyes stinging again.

Would have.

No.

Would.

He _would_ like her.

Even though Keith knew…

He knew...

He gave another nod, lowering his face so his bangs shielded his vision from harsh reality.

“ _Bueno,”_ she said, not pressing him for anything more. _“_ Lance, _mijo,_ why don’t you show Keith his room? Get settled, yes?”

Lance went to his mom then and pulled her into a hug, murmuring something against her neck.

Keith caught the word _gracias;_ thank you.

She squeezed him back just as tight.

Keith’s eyes prickled dangerously again.

She patted Lance’s back with her hand and Lance stepped out of the embrace, turning a smile to Keith that could not hide the slight redness straining at his eyes.

“Follow me.”

He took them from the kitchen back to the hall where he grabbed both the suitcase and the duffel and Keith slipped his backpack over one shoulder and took back the pillow and helmet and then down a hallway to the right.

“That’s Mamá and Papá’s room,” he said as they passed a closed door. “This one’s the bathroom,” Keith caught a glimpse of a geometric patterned shower curtain in the small room, “and this one is ours.” He pushed open another closed door and stepped inside, Keith quietly following.

The room was small like the rest of the home and filled to the brim, but somehow it felt homey rather than cramped. There was a set of twin bunk beds on the far wall, no sheets or bedding on either and instead the lower one was strewn with books and what looked like homework, while another twin bed (freshly made with a galaxy themed comforter that Keith knew without a doubt belonged to Lance) was pressed against the wall directly behind it. A dresser took up most of the opposite wall of that and then a small table with more books on it and a desk lamp. A half-full laundry hamper was squeezed behind the door with a rack that a few jackets and a robe dangled from.

It was the walls though that caught Keith’s attention.

Just like his room, there were posters depicting space and planets and the Galaxy Garrison. But between those the walls were _covered_ in photos; most of them appeared to be of Lance and who Keith could only assume were his siblings but there were sunsets too and landscapes and a few of a very fat looking orange cat.

This…

This was his new room.

Because…

Because…

“Marco’s bedding should be around somewhere,” Lance said, gathering up the books and papers on the bottom bunk, “and we can fix up whichever bed you want, huh? I was always a top bunk person myself but,” he let out a small laugh, “I got a little too tall and the ceiling too short. I think you’d fit just fine though.”

Lance was still talking, something about the dresser and cleaning out some drawers, but his voice was fading into the white noise of before as Keith stared blankly ahead, seeing and yet not seeing the room.

His room.

His new room.

In his new house.

Because…

Because he didn’t have his old home anymore.

Because Pop…

Because Pop…

Because Pop was…

The helmet slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpeted ground with a soft thump.

It sounded like a gunshot.

Keith stared at it as it rocked slightly back and forth on its crown.

Pop had been wearing that when he’d….

When he’d…

It stopped rocking, coming to a final rest.

Just like Pop.

Because he was…

“Pop’s dead,” Keith choked out, the admission of reality suffocating. “Pop’s d-dead.”

He couldn’t deny it any more.

His throat felt too tight, his eyes burning.

Burning like Pop had. Surrounded by fire and pain and… and…

He couldn’t breathe.

There was no smoke here, no collapsed building burying him, but there may as well be for the way his heart was being crushed and broken and smothered.

Keith let out a sob and then another.

He couldn’t stop.

Pop was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead and he was _never_ coming back.

A broken wail was pulled from his throat and Keith reached hands up to muffle it, to silence it, but before he could do so a pair of arms were wrapping about him and holding him tight.

“I want Pop,” Keith whimpered, hands gripping at Lance’s shirt. His voice rose in pitch and volume. “I want Pop!”

“I know,” Lance murmured. “I know.”

Keith let out another wail and pressed his face against Lance’s shirt.

“I want Pop,” he whispered. “I want P-Pop. He can’t be… He c-can’t…”

His legs were shaking now as surely as his shoulders.

He let them collapse.

Lance didn’t let him.

The arms tightened and Lance guided them both gently to the floor and Keith went with him, clinging.

“He can’t be,” he repeated. “He can’t be. I…” he choked. “I want Pop.”

Even though Keith knew he couldn’t.

“I know,” one of Lance’s hands moved up to press against the back of his head, fingers stroking through his hair. “I know, kid. I’m so sorry.”

Keith shuddered out another sob. The shirt was damp beneath his face.

“I want Pop,” came his broken whisper. “Pl-please. Please. I want Pop.”

Lance let out an unintelligible murmur of comfort and continued to pet his hair.

Keith let out another cry.

He couldn’t stop.

Every bottled tear, every plea and whisper and prayer was spilling forth, mumbled and cried and screamed against Lance’s chest.

He didn’t want this to be real.

This was real.

Pop was dead.

Pop was gone.

And no matter how much he prayed and wished and pleaded he was never coming back.

When he was finally spent — Minutes? Hours? Keith had no idea — not a drop left in him to spill and his words a rasp, Lance’s arms were still snug and secure and safe and _warm_ around him.

Pop was gone.

But Lance…

Lance was still here.

And for the first time in days Keith felt like he could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that an order of tissues I hear? Order up, order up, get your tissues here. But hey, let’s have some happy tears too. Keith is officially staying with the Espositos and as hard as it is to see (and write xD) he’s at last acknowledged that his pop has died. A good step forward in the healing process and one I have no doubt he would not have been able to really accept for a much longer while had he gone to Phoenix and into the group home.
> 
> Thank you so much for the love of comments last chapter. You guys made me feel so loved and warm too and I really appreciate it. Please do drop a comment here too; I’d love to hear from you. _Por favor y gracias, abrazos y besos!_


	5. Five

Keith’s face was pressed into the now uncomfortably gross dress shirt made of his tears and snot but he couldn’t find it in him to pull away, to end whatever this strange feeling was; both empty and full and happy and sad and alone and together all at once.

Something brushed against his cheek.

Something furry.

Keith startled backwards with a small gasp and Lance let him go, eyes shooting to the side to find what had touched him.

It was a tail.

Belonging to the fat orange cat he’d glimpsed in the photos.

It _meowed_ , _loudly,_ and then pressed its body up against Keith’s arm.

“That’s Gordito,” Lance said, fond exasperation in his tone. “Careful, if you’re nice to him he’ll never leave you alone again.”

Keith reached a hand out to the large back and touched the fur.

It was so _soft._

He stroked from the cat’s neck towards his tail and he let out a soft _purr._

Keith did it again.

He’d never had a pet before. It was too dangerous to have an animal loose at the fire station and Pop always said it wasn’t fair to an animal to be left alone at the house for days at a time, not even a more solitary and independent one like a cat.

He’d always wanted one though.

And if he couldn’t have a hippo ( _never happening,_ Pop had told him) then his next pick had been a cat.

“His fur gets _everywhere,”_ Lance groused with no heat as Keith continued to gently stroke the cat. “It’s why you see all the closed bedroom doors in an attempt to keep the beds clean. It never really works though as this guy just worms his way in any time he sees an opportunity.”

As if sensing he was the topic of conversation Gordito let out another loud _meow_ and flicked his tail, catching Keith on the chin. He felt a smile tug up his mouth before he could stop it.

“And you are his new favorite person,” Lance smiled himself. “Congrats, kid, you just inherited a furry orange shadow.”

Gordito accepted one more pet before he bunched his feet below him and _leapt,_ landing on the twin bed they’d wound up on the floor next to. He walked across it to where Keith had put Pop’s pillow, gave it a sniff, and then clambered a top it.

“Oh no no!” Lance jumped to his feet as Gordito began to dig his front paws into it as though trying to dig. “Bad cat!”

The cat settled itself into a ball and cast an eye at Lance as though daring him to try and uproot him from his new spot.

Keith heard a giggle.

He realized after a moment it had come from him.

Lance paused from where he was descending hands on either side of the cat’s bulk. “Er, this okay with you? I can move him if, you know…”

“It’s fine,” Keith’s voice was surprisingly even if raspy from his crying.

“I’ll show you were the lint rollers are later,” Lance said in answer. “Speaking of…” He looked down at his shirt that was not covered in fur but in Keith’s bodily fluids.

Keith felt a tinge of pink highlight his cheeks.

“I never liked this shirt,” Lance said, hands already reaching for the top button. “Never liked all the fancy dress stuff, really. Too stifling. Gotta wear it at the Garrison but here I’m more of a tee-shirt and jeans kinda guy. You?”

“I’ve never worn a suit before,” Keith replied quietly.

The material even now felt stiff and awkward.

Pop would have hated it. Keith had never seen him in one either, the most formal thing he owned being his firefighter’s uniform for ceremonies and Pop had complained every time he had to wear it about how the buttons were too tight.

Lance must have seen something beyond the surface words and he gave a decisive nod. “Then let’s not start now. Come on, we’ll unpack your stuff and find something better.”

Lance, Keith was realizing, did not like to remain still for long. Even as he spoke he had one hand popping open more buttons while his other was working the knot on his tie and his foot was pulling open the bottom drawer of the dresser, already empty.

Keith tentatively began to pull off his jacket, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor, and then prying open the buttons he didn’t even remember affixing earlier.

He felt strangely shy all of a sudden as he worked the shirt open.

He and Pop shared a room at the fire station but that was his pop. He’d never even seen Dave walking around in anything less than shorts and a shirt and on the one camping trip Keith had changed in the bathroom.

Lance did not seem to have any such qualms, now bare from the waist up and rooting through a different drawer that was full of what looked like tee-shirts and muttering beneath his breath, clearly looking for a specific one.

Keith supposed given the amount of beds and photos of siblings this was nothing out of the ordinary for Lance.

Such a thought comforted him.

He finished freeing himself from the equally stiff dress shirt and moved over to his duffel. An array of colored shirts greeted him and he bit his lip.

Wasn’t he supposed to wear black? To mourn?

He must have wondered that aloud as Lance gave a soft hum and then he was there, a hand over Keith’s duffel to prevent him from selecting a shirt.

Ocean eyes were somber as they met Keith’s gaze. “I never liked that tradition,” he said quietly. “It is important to mourn, definitely, and to express grief. But… I always imagined our loved ones don’t want us to be _sad_ over them and unless black is your normal go-to… I think they’d rather you wear things that make you happy so they can be happy too.”

Keith felt another sob rumbling in his chest and he swallowed.

He…

He liked that.

“What’s your favorite shirt?” Lance asked. “The one that when it gets washed you have to wear it immediately?”

That would be the one he got from the Phoenix Zoo that summer when they’d made the day trip to visit Boris, the brand new baby hippo, and his mom Helga. Pop had gotten him the shirt from the pachyderm exhibit souvenir shop; a bright blue tee-shirt with cartoon hippos in gray and purple.

He dug it out, holding it in his hands.

“That looks perfect,” Lance gave him a soft smile and a dark hand gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Keith changed into it and a pair of his favorite jeans, the ones that had been through so many washes they felt almost soft to the touch, and when he glanced over at Lance he bit back a laugh.

The shirt apparently on the teenager’s quest list was a yellow one in which nearly the entire front was covered with the image of a golden retriever’s head. It was one of the ugliest things Keith had ever seen.

“Gag gift from a friend at the Garrison,” Lance explained, shimmying into a pair of dark jeans as he spoke. Keith noted he’d pulled off his socks too. “Joke’s on him though, I love it.”

He turned and surveyed the room, hands on his hips. “All right. How about you get your clothes unpacked; you’ve got the two bottom drawers but if they don’t all fit let me know, and I’ll go track down some bedding?”

Lance was giving him some space, Keith realized. On his own volition that didn’t involve him locking the bedroom door and refusing to answer no matter who knocked.  

He nodded slowly.

“All right then. And if you see Gordito try to get on _my_ pillow you take action, understood?”

They both looked to where the cat was still lying on the pillow Keith had brought, curled up with his tail brushing his nose.

“He looks comfortable,” Keith commented, finding it easy somehow to talk about the cat.

“He is, but he’s a greedy little thing. He wants _all_ the pillows.” Lance flicked his fingers from his eyes in the direction of the cat. “I’m watching you.”

Gordito meowed.

“Glad we understand each other.” Lance turned back to Keith, who felt another smile tugging at his face at the interaction. “If you finish up before I come back you’re free to wander about if you want. I’ll give you the full tour a little later, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith nodded.

A moment later he was alone.

But…

He didn’t feel lonely.

Not like he had before.

There was a dull ache there in his chest, still a mawing hole, but it wasn’t as consuming, as empty.

He slowly unpacked.

He fit everything into the two large drawers without issue as like his belongings he didn’t accumulate very much. He spread out the remaining items — his few games and posters and Pop’s helmet and cologne and the flag — on the now empty bottom bunk mattress to figure out later and left his toiletries in the duffel, figuring Lance would show him a spot in the bathroom to keep them.

The knife he put in the drawer under a pile of shirts.

He didn’t think Lance or Maria or anyone here would confiscate it like he was sure the agency would but… but something told him he shouldn’t be waving it around. He knew it wasn’t a normal knife. And now…

Now he would never know.

His lip trembled at that, recalling just a few days ago cuddled up to Pop’s side as he spoke for the first time ever about his mom. His hand went to his chin, like his mom’s and not his pop’s, that Pop had poked with a teasing grin.

Keith had thought he was cried out but apparently not as a sob wrenched its way free and then another.

He hunched over, hands wrapping about his stomach as though that could contain the grief trying to spill out.

A soft _meow_ cut into the air through his low sobs and Gordito was there then, twining about his socked feet and nuzzling his head on his leg.

Keith didn’t think. He reached down and gathered the cat into his arms, pressing his face into the soft fur.

Gordito didn’t scratch or hiss but merely nuzzled his own face against Keith’s arm and let out another _meow._

A minute later the worst of the trembles had stopped and Keith took in a gulping breath, nearly inhaling fur, but he felt calmer once more.

“Th-thank you,” he told Gordito softly. “Um… gratz...no, um, gra-cee-us,” he sounded out. “ _Gracias.”_ That sounded right. He repeated it and Gordito meowed his approval.

He needed to say a proper thank you. He… he owed a lot to Lance and his family.

The tears were trying to press in again so he abruptly stood, Gordito still cradled in his arms, and looked for a distraction as Lance wasn’t back yet but he had no inclination to go wandering the house on his own.

The photos were the easy answer.

They seemed to be in no particular order, ones displaying little kids all the way to young adults, and the other scenes thrown in haphazardly. And as much as he felt a pang of loss when he looked at the photos of the Esposito family members he felt something… warm too.

They were all so happy.

A short knock on the doorframe had him turning his attention from his perusal to Lance entering the room, arms piled high with blankets and sheets. “Pick a bunk?” Lance asked, for the moment dumping it on his own.

He no doubt noticed Keith’s red-eyes again or the way he had turned the family’s cat into a stuffed animal, but he didn’t ask the “are you okay?” question Keith had been getting as though there was an actual answer to that.

Instead he joined Keith at the photo he’d been looking at.

“Ah, Veronica’s officer promotion ceremony,” he said, pride in his voice. “That’s her, obviously,” he pointed at a young woman with similar features to Lance in glasses and wearing a Galaxy Garrison officer uniform. “Youngest ever to be promoted as sergeant. She’s a tactical genius and a munitions expert. She’s already back at work but you’ll meet her eventually.”

A slender finger tracked to the beginning of the photo. “That’s Luis, my oldest brother. He married Lisa, you saw her at the fire department, and they live a couple miles down the road with their two kids.” A smile broke his face into a wide smile. “Sylvio is almost five and Nadia is going to be two months next week. They’re the cutest kids, like, ever.”

Keith felt a smile pushing back on his face at how _fond_ Lance sounded of his niece and nephew.

“Veronica is the next oldest and then there’s Marco, or MJ since he’s the junior. He lives next county over and is a mechanic. Then there’s Rachel.” And she was a near dead-ringer for Lance if he had been a girl and a bit older. “She’s in her junior year of college studying history and genealogy.” He made a face. “You’ll meet her as she’s home for college break for the next two days. And then me,” he pointed at himself. “The baby of the family and current Garrison student.”

He turned Keith slightly to a photo that showed Lance’s parents with a little boy. “You met my mom, Maria, and my dad, Marco, should be home from work in a couple hours; he’s the day manager at the grocery store in town. And then that’s Sylvio; like I said, cute kid.”

He looked to Keith then. “All that said, this is your room now too and I saw you had some posters and stuff. So you’ve got free reign to hang them anywhere and anywhere, okay?” He let out a laugh. “I admit I’ve taken over the room a bit since Marco moved out. And well,” he looked more solemn then, “when I go back to the Garrison next week it’ll be all yours.”

And although Keith knew that Lance had to go back to the Galaxy Garrison, knew he was only home for the holidays, he hadn’t realized just what that meant.

Lance was going to leave.

He was going to leave too.

His chest hitched.

Lance couldn’t…

“Hey, hey,” Lance reached out a hand and put it on Keith’s shoulder and jolted him back. “Keith, breathe with me, kid. In and out, nice and slow.” He took in an exaggerated inhale and Keith struggled to copy. “There you go, in and out. _Bueno._ ”

“Sorry,” Keith choked out, voice high.

“No no, no need for that,” Lance said gently. “Excessive apologizing is _my_ thing. You…” His hand tightened on Keith’s shoulder, “you don’t have to apologize for _anything,_ okay, kid?”

Keith hiccupped and nodded.

He just…

Everything kept… kept _changing._ And Lance… there was something about the older boy that made Keith feel _safe_ for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

He didn’t want him to go.

He also knew that such a thing was inevitable.

“The Garrison is just about an hour away,” Lance continued quietly. “Unfortunately I can’t have guests on campus; security clearance is _awful_ even for families, _but_ I will try to come home most weekends, all right? And if you want you can reach me by phone or video chat every day.” His other hand lifted to tip Keith’s chin up, so _warm,_ forcing purple eyes to meet that dark ocean. “I’m not leaving you. I promise.”

Keith swallowed. “Th… thank you.”

“Aw, kid, you don’t have to thank me for—”

“For everything,” Keith continued, not really meaning to interrupt but he had to say this now. “For… for…”

He didn’t even know how to begin saying all the things he had to be thankful for what Lance had done for him.

Lance’s eyes softened and he pulled Keith into a gentle hug. “ _De nada,”_ he whispered, understanding without needing the words.

“Now come on,” Lance said after a quiet moment, “let’s get that bed set up so I can give you a tour. Which bunk?”

“The top one.”

“I figured, you part-cat child. You’ll have to use those talents for good now, understand? I need you to translate Gordito’s meows for me.”

“Um…”

He realized Lance was teasing and felt a small smile tug on his face again.

_“You failed to mention your kid’s part cat.”_

_“Must have slipped my mind.”_

Hearing Pop’s voice in the memory was both painful and… and comforting.

And Pop…

Pop wouldn’t want him crying over him like this. Just like Lance had said with the clothes, Pop would want him to be happy.

Keith wanted to try.

“So I am _way_ too tall to put that together so you’re in charge of the bed,” Lance told him. “I’ve got the dresser though.”

“I… I don’t need any more drawers,” Keith said, moving towards the bedding and pulling out the dark blue sheets and mattress cover. “It all fit.”

“You need more clothes,” Lance told him with a chuckle. “But I meant the top. You’ll see.”

The top of the dresser was covered in an array of mismatched socks, a few framed photos, a music player and a few other odds and ends. Keith wasn’t sure what Lance meant but he left him to it and propelled himself easily up the bunk bed ladder.

He had the bed set up within ten minutes, Pop’s pillow wedged into the corner and two more for actually sleeping adorned in matching pinstripe blue pillowcases to the comforter. Lance told him they could return to the fire station and get his bedding from there if he’d like and Keith had quietly nodded. He hadn’t taken it with him as Carol said the beds would be provided.

He clambered back down to the ground to see that Lance had cleared (and dusted) the top of the dresser and it was now bare.

“This is for you,” Lance told him. “For you to display things important to you.” Both of their gazes flicked to the helmet.

Keith’s throat felt tight again.

“ _Gra...gracias,”_ he managed and the surprised, beaming smile that lit up Lance’s face pushed away the knot.

“Look at you!” Lance ruffled his hair. “That was perfect, kid. _De nada.”_

Keith didn’t even try to step out of the touch.

“Let’s get this set up proper now,” Lance said. “How do you want to do it?”

Keith needed Lance’s help as the dresser was a mite too tall for him to reach comfortably but they set the helmet up in the middle atop the flag, the photo of him and Pop right next to it, and the few knick-knacks Keith had brought to the side.

Lance supplied him a small crate that could go under the bed for Keith to put his games into and set up the backpack underneath the table that served as a desk and told him once he went back to the Garrison there’d be a lot more room.

Keith had looked with interest and the numerous books for Lance’s studies and the papers scattered all over.

The red mark of a D- on what looked like a physics exam caught his eye, with a note scrawled for Lance to come see the instructor. He looked over his shoulder to Lance, who was in the process of lint-rolling his comforter and humming, and felt something settle in his stomach, the feeling getting worse as his eyes tracked to another marked up essay.

“What’s got your attention?” Lance asked, coming up behind him. “My astrophysics book has some pretty amazing snapshots of—”

He broke off.

“Ah, yeah,” he reached around Keith and shuffled the marked up papers into a folder. “I’m, um, working on that. Work in progress, that’s me. Um, don’t mention it to Mamá, okay?”

Lance was nervous.

It was so out of place with the confident person Keith had seen up until this point. The one who spoke of going on the vaunted Kerberos mission in eight years, who had gushed over the ships and simulations and how _honored_ he was to be a part of the fighter pilot program.

Lance was still rambling. “—she’ll worry and like, after Veronica I know whatever I do won’t be anything special and I’m really not that great at a lot of it, but I still want to make her proud and if she finds out she—”

“I got a D on my book essay,” Keith cut in, knowing it wasn’t the same but Pop had been so disappointed too and Keith understood that feeling. He just… hadn’t liked the book and it had showed.

Lance paused.

“And…” Keith felt his cheeks heat up. “Um, I… I think… I think you are great. R-really great. And… and special. And… and you’re going to make your mom proud.”

Because although he didn’t know much about moms he did know that there was no way Maria would not be proud of all the things Lance had done.

Had done for _him._

Lance gaped.

And the next moment Keith found himself squeezed tight.

“Thanks, kid,” Lance murmured into his hair. “That… that really means a lot.”

He gave Keith one last squeeze and then stepped back, eyes shining just a bit bright. “Now, let’s go get that tour, huh?”

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a bit of a blur, culminating in the family dinner where Keith met both Rachel and Marco.

“ _This is Keith,”_ Maria had said as the other two had come into the kitchen where he and Lance were already seated, bowls of steaming chili that Keith and Lance had helped Maria prepare (everyone helps out with meals, Maria told him, and when Keith had quietly put up that he liked to cook he’d been near smothered in her apron as she railed at Lance over him in teasing Spanish and Lance had weakly defended his apparently only average cooking skills). “ _He will be living with us. Keith, my husband, Marco, and daughter, Rachel. Now eat. Keith’s first chili and it is_ muy sabroso.”

And that had been it.

They clearly knew who he was, Pop’s death had made headlines, but they didn’t press or ask. Rachel had just smiled at him, asked for him to pass the cheese and said she loved his shirt while Marco, a quiet man but with the same thoughtful eyes Lance had, had welcomed Keith to their home and gave him the same warning about the cat.

“ _Too late,”_ Lance had smirked and pointed out that Gordito was curled up beneath Keith’s chair.

A furry orange shadow indeed.

It was going to bed that it all caught up with Keith.

The funeral had been just that morning. He’d thought he was going to live with strangers, other kids who had no one, all the way in Phoenix. He thought he’d never be able to smile again.

And yet in the course of an afternoon he had smiled and laughed and cried a few more times (and Lance nor Maria had ever once told him “don’t cry,” but instead had murmured for him to let it out and patted his hair and back and Maria had pulled him into a hug after he’d tried to share a story about Pop attempting to teach Dave how to make chili and had found himself full of tears once more) and although the Espositos were not Pop, were still strangers…

Keith felt like they could be family.

Pop really would have liked them.

“Knock knock,” Lance pulled him from his recollections, gently rapping his fist on the top of the bunk bed where he had climbed up a couple steps on the ladder. “Bedtime for you, kid. I’ll be in the family room with my homework,” he made a face, “for a few hours more, but if you need anything just come get me, okay? And same for when we’re sleeping; you need anything you wake me or Mamá or Papá; don’t wake Rachel though as she’s really violent if she doesn’t get her beauty sleep.”

“ _Her_ beauty sleep?” Keith carefully teased, the jest feeling both foreign and right after all this time. He’d seen the bathroom and what he thought were Rachel’s skincare and facial creams had been revealed to be Lance’s.

Lance jiggled his foot under the covers with a laugh.

“Good night, Keith,” he said quietly, giving the foot a tender squeeze now. “Sweet dreams.”

“G’night,” Keith whispered.

The room plunged into near darkness, a blue nightlight by the door casting some rays and the window letting in the barest streams of moonlight.

Keith was _exhausted_ but sleep would not come.

He clutched Pop’s pillow, breathing in the scent, trying to find some sense of comfort in it but loss was striking harder now.

He lied in bed for near two hours, listening to the house gently creaking about. Lance entered near silently just before midnight, stripping off his clothes and donning a different tee-shirt over boxer shorts, and crawled into bed with a soft sigh.

After a moment he heard Lance shift. “You’re still awake, aren’t you?”

“...yes,” Keith answered. He clutched the pillow tighter.

Lance sat up, silhouetted by the night light. “Wanna come down here?”

Keith found himself nodding.

He just…

Didn’t want to be alone.

He hesitated though when he reached Lance’s bedside. He’d only ever gone to his pop before and that was at the house with the big bed and this one was so small and they both wouldn’t fit and Lance was still technically a stranger and—

Lance let out a low chuckle. “C’mon kid, hop in.”

Somehow they both fit, Lance wedged up in the corner and sitting while Keith took over the majority of Lance’s pillow, his own still clutched tight to his chest.

“My mom,” Lance’s fingers drifted to the top of his hair, carding his bangs back. Keith’s breath hitched with a small sob. It was just like how Pop always said good night. “Would do this until we fell asleep,” his fingers continued their gentle ministrations. “And she’d sing sometimes too. Would you like a song, Keith?”

Keith gave a minute nod, throat tight.

“All right then. Close your eyes. Try and sleep for me, okay?”

“...kay.”

The song Lance chose was in Spanish. Keith had no idea what he was saying but the tone was soothing, Lance’s voice a smooth, soft tenor that rose up and down with each note.

And despite the fact his eyes were already closed Keith could feel them growing heavier with each passing second, Lance’s hand still carding through his hair and the lullaby warming him from the inside out.

Keith was asleep just as the clock struck midnight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like Lance to sing me to sleep too, please. What a sweetheart. His whole family is, including the dang cat. Shaking my head.
> 
> Starting next chapter we’re gonna start moving into a more “snapshot” mode of storytelling as this fic is to end with Lance returning from the Kerberos mission (how does he return? Well, he’s Shiro in this au so…) and right now both of these boys are about eight years out from that date and time. Oops. Onwards, fast forward button! But I promise, lots of good things still to come ♥
> 
> As always, please leave a comment if you’re enjoying the fic. I love to hear about your favorite scenes, lines, dialogue exchanges, impressions… feed the author, please and thank you.


	6. Six

Life with the Espositos fell into an easy, comfortable routine much quicker than Keith thought it would.

He was surprised too at how… right it all felt. It was just him, Maria and Marco at the home now but Luis and Lisa with their children stopped by twice weekly for dinner and the other brother, Marco Junior, came in a couple times a month for dinner as well.

Lance came home every other weekend true to his word and would spend as much of the day as he could hanging out with Keith; showing him the hoverbike he was fixing up with MJ’s assistance and Keith had spent many hours on his own sitting in the driver’s seat and looking up at the stars in the evening hours. Maria sometimes brought him hot cocoa flavored with cinnamon on colder nights and a thick blanket and Marco would sit with him and ask Keith to point out the different constellations.

Marco wasn’t Pop and Maria wasn’t _his_ mom, but…

But they felt like parents to Keith all the same.

They expected certain things from him; a bevy of chores about the house, good grades… they played games with him, taught him how to cook even more dishes (many Cuban inspired, which Keith learned was where they were from and had immigrated to America when Lance was seven) and he’d wowed Maria with his cinnamon rolls so much she had gotten him his own apron for the kitchen that said “That’s how I roll” with a picture of a cinnamon roll and snapped so many photos of him wearing it while cooking that Keith was afraid he’d permanently be wearing a blush.

And Lance…

Lance was the brother Keith had never had and never knew how much he wanted. He was funny and kind and a dork (his obsession with old school video games was both awe-inspiring and scary) but had other sides too, more vulnerable ones that he didn’t really show often but made him up and Keith wouldn’t have wanted him to change one bit. Lance, to him, was perfect.

Lance had…

He’d saved him.

And Keith didn’t think he was being overdramatic, not like Lance could be (even though Keith knew beneath the theatrics was one of the biggest hearts that existed). Because Lance had. He had given him a _home,_ and one close enough where he could visit Pop whenever he wanted to. Where he could still be at his school and see familiar faces even if he didn’t really hang out with the other kids. Where he could visit Dave, who had broken down sobbing when Keith had come to the hospital, and hugged him tight and apologized over and over for not being able to save Pop; for not being there for Keith after.

He and Dave saw each other weekly now. Not at the fire station, Keith couldn’t bring himself to go back into that memory-strewn building yet although Lance had and retrieved some more of his effects, but they met at the park or Pop’s grave and he’d come over to the Esposito’s a few times for dinner, carefully though as he was still very weak and it would be several months still until he could go back to active duty, and they had told him he was welcome any time.

Keith had overheard Dave and Maria and Marco talking quietly one evening. Dave had _apologized_ to them for not being there, for not being able to take in Keith himself (running into the problem of Keith not being able to legally live at the department although the fact Dave had thought about it, considered it, had made Keith’s throat feel tight and his heart warm) and _thanked_ them, tears on his cheeks, for all they had done.

He’d tried to offer them money then to help pay for some of Keith’s expenses as Pop’s life insurance and assets were in a trust until he was eighteen and otherwise seized by the state.

Maria had vehemently refused. _“The agency already sends money,”_ she said, frown clear in her voice, “ _as though people must be paid to be kind to another. No. We want nothing from you except that you remain part of Keith’s life. Understand, yes?”_

Keith still couldn’t get over how _kind_ they all were. How selfless and compassionate and doing the right thing because it was simply the right thing to do.

Just like Pop.

And Pop had brought them all together. He’d been the one who’d invited Lance to volunteer at the toy drive, to introduce him to Keith. He had known, somehow, Keith thought. It was why he’d given him his mom’s knife too, had talked about her after a lifetime of silence, when he hadn’t planned to until next October.

Pop was watching over and protecting him even now.

It was comforting.

Days bled into weeks that turned into months and before Keith had even realized how much time had passed it was summer and Lance was home full-time until he went back to school in late August minus his work shifts.

Lance spent the summer as a part-time barista at one of Paulden’s coffee shops and he’d come home in the late morning (always silently slipping out around oh four hundred hours although Keith had awoken a few times as Lance generally needed a few alarms to get going) smelling like coffee and with a tired cast to his face, but it always brightened to a smile when he bid Keith a good morning and after a shower and sometimes a cat nap (of which Lance would legit seek out Gordito to cuddle with) Lance was a ball of excitable energy once more.

Lance’s hoverbike was still in repair mode as he worked to get funds to better repair it, but Lance borrowed his parent’s car to take Keith on little day trips —the Phoenix Zoo after Keith told him how much he loved hippos, to Sedona to see the cliffs, Prescott National Forest to go hiking and camping, and then out to the local desert to for hiking and camping trips — and anything and everything in between, nights spent stargazing and pouring over maps and Lance excitedly talking about Garrison missions and Kerberos and playing games and sitting around the bonfire in the backyard and just _being_ there.

The Espositos were a lot like him and Pop. They liked to _do_ things rather than _buy_ things and Keith had been quick to learn that although they were never wanting for anything they did not have a lot of extra money. Veronica, who he had met and been both awed and terrified by although her smile was as warm as the rest of her family, sent some money by and MJ  the same. Lance, Keith knew, spent a lot of what he made at his job on their day trips and when he’d tried to protest Lance had given him the serious look — eyebrows narrowed on sharp ocean eyes with a firm frown that pretty much dared anyone to argue with him — and Keith had quietly thanked him instead.

Summer passed by in a blink and Lance went back to the Garrison for his third year and Keith entered junior high, which due to Paulden’s size brought in students from Drake and other surrounding towns.

It was there Keith met a shy, quiet boy named Hunk.

Hunk was a larger, chubby kid and Keith had stumbled upon him getting his books smacked out of his hands by two fellow sixth graders, and they’d been making monkey noises and laughing as Hunk tried to pick up his books and they kicked them further away.

Despite being smaller than all of them Keith had been raised to help people in need. His Pop had. The Espositos did. And he absolutely hated bullying. He’d jumped in, not throwing a punch (use your words first, Pop always said, as once a fist is thrown you can’t take it back as easily) and demanded they leave Hunk alone.

They’d laughed, asked Keith what a runt like him was going to do about it, and shoved him back.

Keith’s fist had found a home in the other boy’s right eye.

Keith’s butt had found a spot in the principal’s office.

Maria had come down, blue eyes flashing when the principal went to tell her of the fight and how Keith was going to be suspended for his actions.

“ _My child protect another boy and this how you reward him? With suspension?”_ she’d asked, voice deceptively calm with a tempered fire behind it that had the principal looking a little pale. “ _Those boys are bullies, Mr. Principal. They deserve more than Keith gave them. Suspension, you say?”_ She’d turned to Keith. _“Vacation for you. Come. We go for ice cream.”_

My child.

Maria’s words had echoed far longer than the principal's stuttered “ _that’s policy, ma’am,”_ even as he’d brought it down to two days from four.

My child.

Keith’s chest felt warm.

He’d called to tell Lance about the fight that night (“ _Way to go, kid! You did good! And look, I think might have made a friend!”)_ and Keith had never really had a friend-friend and he wondered if maybe the boy, Hunk, who he only knew from a shared social studies class might indeed want to be friends with him… or if he’d be put off by the fight.

He’d pushed that thought aside and instead quietly brought up what Maria had said. Lance had been quiet for a moment and Keith had the sinking feeling he’d been wrong, he’d heard it wrong and it wasn’t— _“She’s right. You’re part of our family, Keith. But… but if it’s too much—”_

 _“No,”_ Keith had cut in. “ _No… I just…”_ He’d started tearing up then, and he was _fine_ he tried to assure a panicking Lance.

He was just so…

Happy.

Pop would be so happy for him too, he knew.

No one could ever replace Pop but even so… Keith had found a family.

He still couldn’t believe it all.

And Lance had been right. Hunk became his friend. His best friend.

It seemed like a weird twist of fate as Hunk turned out to be the son of the mechanic MJ worked for. Hunk, Keith learned, shared his dad’s love of engineering and was a passionate cook.

He also wanted to the Galaxy Garrison. Not space though, he’d quickly iterated, he was scared of far too many things to go up there, but their engineering and mechanics program was the best in the country.

They’d made a pact to get in together.

Keith knew though without a doubt he wanted Hunk to be his engineer. Lance had explained how students worked in teams of three; a pilot, an engineer and a communications expert. They would be assigned teams but cadets were allowed to submit preferences for team members that would be reviewed on a case by case basis. And Keith knew there was no one he would rather have. As scared of, well, almost everything, that Hunk was he was a _genius_ and if he was that amazing now, with just basic tools and car engines to work with, Keith couldn’t even begin to imagine what Hunk could accomplish with the Garrison’s resources.

They would be unstoppable. The best team to grace the Garrison _ever._

Lance had told them they’d be hard pressed to beat _his_ team but he’d take them up on the challenge.

Keith met Lance’s communications teammate (and best friend) over that winter break when he came to visit the Espositos for a couple days as his family lived nearby on Garrison sponsored property in a Phoenix suburb since his dad was _a commander_ and Keith was still reeling.

Matt Holt, the bespectacled teen had introduced himself, easy grin hiding a very mischievous personality. He had been the one to give Lance the dog tee-shirt and Lance made a point of wearing it obnoxiously around the house while Matt was visiting.

Matt stayed for two days and they were two very _loud_ days but Keith had loved them. Matt was like a more… refined version of Lance but with a very, very vulgar mouth. Maria had gasped when Matt had dropped a swear at the dinner table and Lance had choked on his chicken when she’d gotten the soap dispenser.

Matt had been on his best (vocal) behavior for the remainder of his stay before he’d left to spend Christmas holidays with his own family.

Christmas that year was…

Was hard.

Keith had tried to get caught up in the Christmas cheer and tacky decorations Lance had strung up with a gusto, but when Lance had started singing along to the radio while holding the salt shaker Keith had excused himself and retreated to their room as the image of Pop singing into his bag of popcorn and dancing about the station had hit _hard._

Lance had given him some time alone but had then come in. He hadn’t said anything as he clambered up into Keith’s bunk but had squeezed himself in along the railing and stroked Keith’s hair as he sobbed.

Keith tried to be happy though. He didn’t want to ruin Christmas for the others.

Maria had sat him down though and bluntly told him that he did not have to pretend for them. If he was happy, then he should be happy, but if he was sad then he could be sad and they would do what they could to help him through it. But he was not to paste on a fake smile or hide from them, understand?

Keith had ended up crying again and being rocked in Maria’s arms.

Christmas morning had come with much fanfare as all of the Esposito kids had come over (MJ staying the night on Christmas Eve and squashed into the bottom bunk while Veronica had roomed with Rachel in their shared bedroom) and cookies were being shoved into any open hand and Keith’s cinnamon rolls were being devoured and Sylvio was running about with a streaming tail of garland while Lisa chased him and Lance lied on the floor with Nadia, just a little over a year, burbling on his stomach and making faces at her.

It was so _loud_ but in all the good ways. Like Pop the Espositos didn’t give much in terms of gifts although there were a few; mostly clothes and candies and Keith had been the recipient of a gift from nearly everyone to his astonishment; again mostly clothes and treats but Veronica had given him a small model of one of the Garrison’s most renowned ships and Luis and Lisa and the kids had gotten him a small stuffed hippo plush.

Lance’s gift though…

It was from Lance and Dave, a conjoined effort that culminated in a photo album of every photo they could find of Pop and of Pop and Keith. Keith hadn’t thought there were very many as Pop wasn’t good with a camera and it had been just he and Keith without anyone to really take photos, but there were more than Keith had ever imagined as Dave apparently was quite the shutterbug.

There were photos of him sitting on Pop’s chest as a baby like Lance had done with Nadia, a shot of Keith’s first day of school with Pop standing by. Most were taken at the station and showed the two of them cooking together, reading, Keith dressing up in Pop’s oversized gear, helmet tipped off his head as he _laughed._

It was too much.

Keith had broken down, sobbing loudly, album clutched to his chest and all of the noise had just _stopped_ around him. And then they’d all been there; Lance dragging Keith into his lap and Maria hugging him from behind and Marco’s hand in his hair and Sylvio worming in, not quite understanding but somehow knowing Keith needed the hug, and everyone else a warm press of bodies all around.

It made Keith cry harder.

When he finished he felt… better.

He’d thanked Lance (“ _Muchas gracias. Me encanta.”)_ and gotten a kiss pressed to the top of his head in response. Keith had ended up crying again; that was the first time anyone had done so since Pop as despite the closeness he had felt with the Espositos they had limited their interactions to hugs and occasionally a kiss on the cheek from Maria, and Lance had apologized, but Keith had told him it was okay, more than okay.

He’d ended up in a showering of kisses then from Maria, Marco and Gordito had gotten in on it too to much laughter and was the levity needed for the moment.

The rest of Christmas consisted of the family catching up, playing games, and eating so much food Keith didn’t know how they weren’t all rolling by the end of the evening.

December twenty-sixth had dawned with a quiet cold.

Pop’s death anniversary.

Lance and Maria had taken him to Pop’s grave where they’d met Dave, whose face had been drawn with a pain that Keith felt deep in his heart too.

Pop wouldn’t want them crying over him like this, Dave had said, holding Keith in his arms. He’d probably be hitting them both over the heads for being so depressing. Keith had let out a wet laugh and agreed.

It was why they’d brought a picnic lunch with them; all of Pop’s favorites. Even the popcorn clusters. Keith had choked one down and ended up crying at how _awful_ it was and the only thing that made it better was Lance looked to be near dying too. Dave had snapped a picture of the two of them trying to wipe their tongues off with napkins and said it was something, _“Jace would have gotten a kick out of.”_

They left behind a poinsettia plant and the rest of the popcorn as a miniature offering. When Keith had quietly noted that the cemetery said no food gifts Maria had pressed a finger to her lips and Dave had said he saw nothing.

When Keith returned the next morning they were all gone although there wasn’t an animal track or crumb to be seen. He’d smiled, told Pop he hoped he’d enjoyed them, and for the first time managed to walk away without crying.

Dave was right. Lance was right.

Pop wouldn’t want him to be so sad still. He would never stop grieving…

But it was time to start smiling in full again.

Time moved by in a blink.

Keith entered seventh grade, then eighth. Lance began his fifth year as a cadet, top of his class. There was talk of him having a chance at Kerberos in six years.

On his third Christmas with the Espositos and almost three years to the day when they’d invited him into their home, Lance sat him down in front of the tree after everyone save for Marco and Maria had left or gone to bed (Rachel and Veronica spending the night before they went back to Phoenix and the Garrison respectively the next day).

“Keith,” Lance had looked serious even though his eyes were dancing. “How… how do you feel about being my… my brother? ¿ _Mi hermano?”_

“Your brother?” Keith repeated. “I… I thought I…” he swallowed, “already was?” 

Because Lance and all of the other siblings had treated him as one, Maria and Marco as a son, and both parties had tossed the term  _hermano_ and  _mijo_ at him on more than one occasion. 

What was...?

His breath caught.

Lance let out a light laugh. “Of course we are. You,” he poked Keith in his chest, “are my little brother. And I’m your dashing older brother.”

Keith stuck his tongue out as he heard Maria let out a laugh behind them where she and Marco were sitting on the couch.  “Did you have to put the dashing in there?” he managed, throat thick.

Were they asking...?

“Yes.”

“Lance,” said Marco, voice tinged with a note of warning.

Lance coughed and his face sobered. “You are my brother, Keith,” he said quietly. “Always. But… but what I’m asking. What _we’re_ asking,” he gestured towards his parents, “is if, legally, on paper, you’d… you’d like to be part of it. If… if my parents could formally adopt you.”

Keith’s swore his heart stopped.

“You will always be your father’s son,” Maria said quietly before Keith could respond. “We would never dream of stepping into his shoes, of taking his place. But we have discussed it and… we wish to offer this to you, if you would like. No matter your decision though you will always have a home here.”

“Yes,” Keith breathed, warmth blossoming in his chest. “Yes. _Sí. S-sí.”_

Lance pulled him into a gentle hug, one hand going to cup the back of his head and the other resting on his back. “My little part-cat brother,” he murmured. “ _Te quiero,_ Keith. I love you.”

 _“T-te quiero,”_ Keith repeated, the phrase familiar from around the house and it had been directed at him before but this time it felt… heavier. Stronger. _“Gracias…”_ He looked past Lance’s shoulder to Maria and Marco. _“Gracias a todos.”_

 _“_ _Bienvenido a la familia, mijo_ ,” Maria smiled.

Mijo.

My son.

Keith’s gaze moved from them, tracked about the room, to Gordito lying in an empty shoebox and playing with a piece of ribbon, and then back to Lance, tilting his head up to catch the dark blue gaze.

He was…

He was _home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not responding to all comments from the last chapter. This girl been very under the weather and is coming to you live now from insomnia night/day/whatever time this is #2. But wanted to get this up for y'all, I will try and do better this chapter :)
> 
> We're moving pretty quickly timeline wise but I hope everyone is enjoying the little "stops" this express train is making. Keith has found a new family and officially been (after stuff is signed) adopted ♥ Bless him. (for those wondering why it took so long, the adoption process is a pain in the flipping ass no matter the situation. I like to imagine the Espositos started talking about it about a year after they'd had Keith with them and were clearing all the hurdles before offering it to him so now they can just move forward pretty quick). 
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed please leave a comment. Look forward to hearing from you ♥
> 
> (Also note, if you were looking for a fully "finished" feeling story of good feels and found family, this would be your place to stop as things start going down the rabbit hole as Kerberos approaches. I do hope you'll join me for the rest of this journey but if you like fully wrapped up stories and only warm fuzzies, this be your stop).


	7. Seven

“—Cadet Lance Javier Esposito, fighter pilot class division A, rank one,” the speaker announced as Lance started his trek across the stage.

Keith stuck his fingers in his mouth and _whistled_ as loud as he could before breaking into cheering and applause with the rest of the Esposito family as Lance, dressed in Galaxy Garrison dress blues, accepted his diploma from the smartly dressed Commander Holt, who pulled him into a tight hug.

The cheering got louder. Lance was clearly a favorite of both the audience and his classmates, all of who were clapping enthusiastically and cheering and many doing Lance’s favorite “finger gun” pose as a salute.

Keith thought his face might split from grinning.

Lance had graduated top of his class in the fighter pilot program. Years and years of hard work and late nights and plenty of tears and yells of frustration as the work got progressively harder and Lance _struggled_ beneath it but he kept trying and trying and he had pushed himself with his family’s support to the top.

The accolades were more than deserved.

Lance looked out past the cheering crowds and somehow caught sight of them all, lifting his left hand up in a wave.

Rachel shrieked so loud Keith feared his eardrums might have just ruptured.

“That’s my brother!” she screamed, grabbing a hold of the gentleman sitting behind them and shaking him. “ _¡Ese es mi hermano! ¡Él es asombroso!”_ She let go of the man’s jacket and turned to Keith, rocking him by his shoulders. “ _¡_ _Ese es nuestro hermano!”_

“ _Sí,”_ Keith grinned at her. “ _Ese es nuestro hermano.”_

He never got tired of saying such a thing.

Brother. Sister.

His family.

They had all turned out to support Lance, gathered in the audience with Nadia sitting atop Luis’ shoulders and Sylvio, almost ten now, standing atop his chair to see over the taller audience. MJ had jokingly offered to lift Keith up and gotten a death stare that had increased when he’d reached over and ruffled Keith’s hair.

At fifteen Keith was slowly, slowly starting to gain some height but it was not quick enough to his liking, especially amongst all of his siblings who _towered_ over him. Even Sylvio was shooting up like a bean sprout (Maria’s words, not his) and was nearly at Keith’s shoulder.

Pop’s words about his short grandfather haunted Keith but he tried to remember too that his mom had been… he couldn’t quite remember the number now but it was taller than his pop’s six foot three. He had to believe.

Keith felt his smile beginning to slip though as the next cadet crossed the stage.

Now that Lance had graduated…

He’d be living permanently at the Galaxy Garrison in the officers’ quarters and would be there all summer and Keith would hardly see him.

But…

But if Keith’s application for the Galaxy Garrison was accepted…

He could be joining him that fall.

Students were admitted when they would typically be entering their sophomore year of standard high school. Keith and Hunk had both spent weeks writing their essays (reviewed by both Lance and Veronica, the latter of whose approval meant _everything_ to Keith and Lance’s indignant squawking was the cherry on top) and taking the required practical exams.

Keith had a leg up. _He_ had driven before. And not a car, which his just recently acquired driver’s permit would legally allow.

No.

Lance had let him drive his hoverbike.

The hoverbike, named Vanessa after Lance’s first crush he’d smiled dopily, was Lance’s pride and joy, and Keith remembered many days of sitting in it while it had been inoperable and imagining himself flying it one day under the stars. Lance had finally, between MJ’s experience and funds, been able to fix it up about two years ago and had taken Keith out on it almost every weekend he was home, wind whipping their hair back and Lance’s loud whoops echoing across the desert.

This past February, after Keith could reach the pedals Lance had teased, he’d decided to allow Keith to fly her to get some practice for the Garrison exams.

Neither had really expected what happened next.

Keith had always been fascinated with racing and ships but legally he couldn’t drive and he would _never_ take a joyride that would reflect badly on Marco and Maria’s parenting even though when he spotted an unattended bike with the keys in the ignition he’d had to physically force his feet past it.

He’d read every book he could on the subject though, on engines (that Hunk had demonstrated taking apart and putting back together with a gusto), on _how_ to pilot all of the different vehicles from motorcycles to hoverbikes to aircraft and he was _dying_ to try out his knowledge, to see if he was actually any good.

He was…

Very good.

“Insane,” had been the word Lance had chosen when they ground to a stop. _“Holy crow, Keith, what_ was _that?_ Dios, _what are you?”_

Lance had brought him out several times since, coaching Keith on the other dynamics of flying, of diving down cliff sides (and that had been _terrifying_ and _exhilarating_ and Keith still couldn’t believe he hadn’t killed them both) and trying to give him pointers on how to best both fly and handle weapons systems, which is what the simulator would test.

 _“You’re going to be the best pilot the Garrison has ever seen,”_ Lance had told Keith quietly as they sat on Vanessa’s hood under the darkening twilight.

Keith had protested and Lance had fixed him with that intense gaze. “ _I_   _mean it, kid. You… you’re going to do amazing things.”_

 _“Not as amazing as you._ You’re _going to Kerberos.”_

“ _We don’t know that.”_

 _“_ I _know that,”_ Keith had insisted.

Lance had given his shoulder a gentle nudge before pulling him into a hug. “ _Thanks, kid.”_

And now, as Lance finished crossing the stage, Keith knew without a doubt he would.

And he would be right there at the Garrison to watch it happen.

xxx

“Kid, relax, you’re making _me_ stressed. Breathe for me, okay?”

“Lance,” Keith’s eyes darted around the room. “Why… why are there so many people?”

“Because they all want to say they saw a legend fly first,” Lance grinned at him.

Keith was not calmed by that.

It was the final step of the entrance exams and the fact that nearly _everyone_ in command on the pilot side of Garrison operations had turned out to watch Keith told him he had already been accepted into the program. It would be hard not to, given his first simulation scores that had beaten every record the Garrison had.

This was more for placement, cargo, support or fighter pilot, and that could always change too based on class rankings and performance. It normally was overseen by just a handful of the personnel who would be doubling as instructors.

That’s what Keith had planned for.

Not the almost fifty gathered in the observation deck and ten on the floor with him.

He tugged uncomfortably at the flight suit they’d had him wear to monitor his vitals as good health was a must and depending on heart rate and other components they could test his reaction to stressful situations and further make a determination as to which class he would join.

Keith’s heart rate was currently at one hundred forty and ticking higher.

They were going to fail him as soon as they hooked him up to the monitor and saw that number.

One hundred and forty-two now.

“Keith, kid, hey,” Lance tapped his cheek and turned it back towards him and away from the audience. “Look at me. Now deep breath.”

He sucked in an exaggerated inhale and Keith was reminded to his early days at his new home when he would break into crying so hard that he couldn’t breathe and Lance or Marco would guide him out with the breathing exercises.

He shakily tried to mimic it.

One hundred and thirty-six.

“And again,” Lance coached.

One hundred and twelve.

“Kogane!” someone shouted.

One hundred and twenty-five.

“In a minute!” Lance shouted over Keith’s head. “Gotta finish my pep talk, don’t rush me!”

There was some chuckling and Keith sent up a silent prayer that despite Lance’s youth and exuberance he was a respected officer even as a first year and no one questioned it.

“Keith, kid,” Lance turned back to him, bracing his hands on Keith’s shoulders. “You’ve got this. And,” he smiled, “I’ve got you.”

Keith let out a heavy breath, a smile tugging up his own face.

_“I’ve got you.”_

Another reminder, another memory, steeped in so much but at its heart was that Lance was _there_ for him and always would be.

Ninety-one.

Lance bent over and pressed a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “Now go get ‘em.”

Keith made fighter pilot with flying colors.

xxx

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Hunk muttered.

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Maybe. Right now I think I might just puke on you.”

Keith laughed and patted Hunk’s broad shoulder.

He’d gotten his wish. Hunk was his engineer.

It had taken a lot of cajoling, pleading, bribery in the form of doing Hunk’s laundry as Hunk _hated_ doing so, and even getting Lance to drop some not so subtle hints about how _perfect_ Hunk would be as a space engineer for a pilot team and it as such a _shame_ he was going to be stuck on the ground while the rest of them were all up there in the stars.

Keith could feel it as he and Hunk headed to meet their communications expert, a girl named Ina Leifsdottir.

They were going to be the best team the Garrison had ever seen.

xxx

Keith’s phone woke him up.

He turned bleary eyes towards it.

Lance.

At oh two hundred hours.

Something must be wrong.

Suddenly wide awake he sat up and yanked it off the nightstand before the ringing could wake Hunk.

“La—?”

“Meet me outside. Our spot.”

Lance hung up before Keith could even think to respond.

He quickly got dressed, trying to run over the brief conversation and analyze Lance’s tone. He had been near breathless, but he didn’t sound upset, Keith thought. Excited, maybe?

Keith slipped out of the room and snuck down the quiet hallway. If he got stopped and asked why he was out past curfew he would just say Second Lieutenant Esposito had summoned him. Lance’s name could get him out of almost _anything,_ the golden boy of Galaxy Garrison.

Keith smiled as he entered the elevator.

Lance had shot up so far so fast that it was unbelievable. At twenty-three he had been given his current rank after being the youngest after only his sister to receive the sergeant commendation. Keith wasn’t surprised though. Lance _was_ that amazing. He brought out the best in people, including the stuffy higher up command minus Commander Holt who was already a pretty jovial and upbeat person even if his memes and puns were cringeworthy, and had shown a flair for both the peacekeeping tasks of the Galaxy Garrison all over Earth and for his skill in piloting both aircraft and spacecraft.

The elevator dinged and Keith hurried out of the silent lobby and into the crisp March air. He was glad he’d thought to grab a jacket.

His and Lance’s “spot” was the small plotted landscape on the outskirts of the Garrison buildings that offered a clear view of the vast desert skies and was out of the way from the beaten trail. They’d go there to meet up, especially when Lance wanted to shrug off the more formal tone he’d been forced to take with his increasing status, and be the dork of a brother Keith knew he really was.

Lance was waiting for him when Keith arrived and sitting on a spread out blanket with a cup of something steaming in hand and a thermos next to him.

He turned his head at Keith’s arrival, easy grin on his face and bright against the dark skin even in the barely there lighting.

“Hey there,” he greeted, gesturing at the thermos.

Keith felt his heart rate settle just a bit. He hadn’t thought it was trouble and this confirmed it.

What could be so important though Lance would wake him up at this hour?

His breath caught. There was only one thing he could think of.

“I got it,” Lance said quietly as Keith finished pouring himself a cup.

He didn’t have to say what “it” was.

Keith took the moment to put down his cup and then _launched_ himself at Lance, wrapping him up in a hug.

“I knew you would,” he whispered as Lance’s arms came to circle about him. “I knew it.”

“You were right,” Lance’s voice had taken on a breathy quality again. “Keith, I got it. I’m going to Kerberos.” He let out a laugh, delighted. “I’m going to Kerberos. And… And Matt’s going too.”

Keith sat back “What? Really?”

“Anddddd,” Lance dragged the word out. “Commander Holt.”

Keith blinked.

And blinked again.

“Come again?”

Because those three together in an enclosed space for months? They would either drive themselves crazy or they would come back so full of puns and bad jokes and some crazy complicated handshake and then the world would be subjected to it and Keith didn’t think anyone deserved that fate.

“Since Matt and I are both considered young the Garrison wanted a senior member to take charge. And since Commander Holt’s background is actually science and he’s got engineer experience he was the perfect fit. They want me to take some courses in engineering too… was thinking I could steal Hunk for my tutor?”

“I think he’d be fine with that,” Keith said, hands trembling and he picked up his cup to let the heat steady them. He knew Hunk would be more than fine; he’d probably faint out of excitement.

“It’s not for another year and a half,” Lance continued, head tipped back and looking at the stars. “There’s a lot of training and of course the ship is still being finalized, but…” He turned to meet Keith’s eyes. “It’s really happening. I… I can’t believe it. I never thought… I never thought they’d actually pick me.”

Lance’s hands were trembling too, Keith noticed, as they brushed back his bangs and he looked up towards the sky.

Keith took a moment to study him, this person who was both the same and yet completely different from the one who had walked across a metal beam to “save” him over six years ago, even though he’d gone on to save Keith in a much bigger way from those actions.

He still had the same haircut, still the same ocean eyes that saw a lot more than Lance’s exuberant personality would suggest. His face was still long and slender but it had filled out some, his chin a little less pointy. Keith’s hand went to his own, remembering Pop’s words, with a little smile.

He had ditched the tee-shirts for more form-fitting but still casual shirts, but still kept away from all of the “stuffy button-ups” save for when he was in uniform and right now was wearing a brown leather biking jacket that cut sharply.

His smiles were still both bright and soft, large and small, but he had pretty much lost that goofy grin except whenever he was playing with his niece and nephew or encountered garlic knots.

He’d grown up, Keith realized.

And he…

He was exactly who Keith wanted to be.

He must have been staring a bit too intently as those dark eyes turned to him lips pulled up into a smile. “What? Do I have hot chocolate on my face?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, gesturing at his own lip. “Smeared all over there.”

There was nothing there of course but Lance’s soft yelp and quick scrubbing at his face made Keith grin.

He…

He was really going to miss Lance.

This wasn’t going to be like the other missions and flights Lance had gone on, maybe a few weeks out at most and depending on distance still able to communicate back to the Garrison. It’s not like those messages were for Keith, but even hearing Lance’s voice on pilot logs (of which Veronica had granted him access to listen to with her) was comforting.

Kerberos though… it was going to be nearly a year long mission with contact being relayed via satellites that would take _months_ to reach back to Earth and would be classified to the point that even Veronica would not have access. Based upon timing the Kerberos team may even beat back some of their last transmissions as there’d be likely a month long minimum delay between relay points.

It’d be a whole year without really hearing from Lance.

Keith swallowed thickly.

“Um,” he floundered for something to say, to not ruin this moment, “how… how’s your beauty regimen going to go?”

“Ugh, I’ve told you, it’s not a beauty regimen, you make it sound so girly,” Lance groused, sticking his tongue out. “It’s a deep-cleaning facial and pore saving and recovery program—”

Keith fixed him with a look.

“Fine, yes, my beauty regimen, well, it’s…” Lance’s lip wobbled and Keith honestly wasn’t sure if it was exaggerated or not. “It can’t come,” Lance whimpered. “Some pre-approved lotions are okay and my one facial cleanser like normal, but… but that’ll last me a month at most. A month, Keith. When I come back I’m going to be all pimply and gross and it’s going to be _awful._ And what if the acne _scars? Dios,_ you think my routine is bad now I’ll have to steal Veronica’s foundation and wear a mask of it at all times.”

Keith snorted past the lump in his throat.

“But,” Lance’s voice turned from the whine to a softer tone, “that’s not what you really wanted to talk about, is it?”

Keith found himself shaking his head.

Lance waited.

“I’m… I’m really happy for you,” he started off, voice even. “But I’m…” and now it was turning high and breathy but Keith couldn’t stop it, “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“Aww, kid, c’mere.” Lance held open his arms and Keith scooched over, sinking into the hug. “I’m going to miss you too,” Lance said quietly, simply.

Keith knew a year and a half was a long way out, that he still had plenty of time to spend with Lance.

It still showed up in a blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the fluff and family express train has made a stop now at prepare for angst central. It’s gonna be beautiful. But, uh, let’s concentrate on this gorgeous stuff right now, eh? Look at these boys growing up. I’m like a proud mamá myself over here. 
> 
> Also, since I keep getting comments on this. Read the tags; there is no Shiro in this fic. Timeline ends as well (via first chapter author notes) upon "rescuing" Shiro (Lance) from Garrison custody. 
> 
> Enjoying the fic? Please leave a comment below. I love to hear from you and really appreciate it. Thanks!


	8. Eight

“It’s so big! You’re going to fly that, _Tio_ Lance?”

“You betcha! C’mere, let me show you!”

Keith smiled fondly as Sylvio, twelve-years-old now and wanting to be a pilot just like Lance (and didn’t Keith know how that felt) eagerly grabbed his uncle’s spare hand, Nadia already hanging on the other, and Lance steered them towards the front end of The Heracles, the ship that he would be piloting next week when the mission to Kerberos launched.

The Galaxy Garrison had lowered their stringent no-visitor policy and allowed the family’s of all Kerberos personnel involved in the project to visit the base and observe the ship before its official unveiling to the public the next day. It had turned into a giant party atmosphere with food and drinks all about the tarmac and big tents set up to ward off the hot July Arizona heat.

People every which way were mingling and chatting, but Keith was standing off to the side holding a cup of punch. He had seen The Heracles on a number of occasions already and this was his family’s first time this deep into the Garrison base and he wanted to let them spend the time with Lance.

“It’s going to be a long year, isn’t it?”

Keith turned to the right to spot a younger girl standing next to him. She was dressed in a pretty purple and white dress with a matching headband holding back auburn locks, but as her eyes met his he could see the mischievous sparkle that told him this girl was not as innocent as she looked.

He knew why.

She could be none other than Katie Holt and given what he knew of Matt and Commander Holt of course she would be just as insane as the rest of them. He’d never met her before as despite her family’s standing on base she was not allowed in past the main check-in as she was still a civilian. But he’d heard quite a bit about her from Lance as Matt liked to brag about his “genius” sibling as much as Lance liked to talk about his family and talk Keith up (not that Keith needed talking up, Lance told him, and if he were older _he_ would be the one going to Kerberos even as Keith protested such). But despite the sparkle in her eye her words were soft and a touch sad.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed quietly.

“But we’re proud of them,” she continued, turning to look out as Matt walked by with a woman who had to be their mother, wildly gesturing at the ship.

Keith inclined his head again.

“I’m Katie,” she stuck her hand out, “and you must be Keith. My dad talks about you all the time; says you’re the best pilot he’s ever seen.”

Keith accepted her hand but shook his head. “No. That’d be my brother.”

“I disagree,” she said. “I’ve seen your scores. But hey, don’t get all defensive,” she elbowed him, _hard,_ as Keith felt himself bristling on behalf of Lance who had worked _so_ hard to get where he was. Maybe Lance wasn’t the best pilot based on test scores and simulations (Keith had already beaten every record the Garrison had so he knew that part was true) but he had the most heart, the most compassion, and although he downplayed it behind his carefree demeanor Keith knew Lance was just as sharp if not more so than Veronica and _saw_ things for what they were and such a quality meant more than who could fly a simulation the fastest.

“I don’t mean it as a negative,” Katie continued. “I mean, I know _I’m_ smarter than my brother and he’s amazing himself.”

Keith looked at her again. This girl? Smarter than Matt Holt?

“But that’s looking at just the numbers,” she said. “On paper both of us appear to be the higher performing siblings, but we both also know that’s not true. Out there, in the world…” she turned, a soft smile gracing her features as she looked out towards the ship, “people like them truly shine. We’re lucky to have them, huh?”

Keith’s throat felt oddly choked and so he nodded.

“So hey,” she whipped a phone out of a hidden pocket on her dress. “We should keep in touch. You know, families of the crew and all that. Give me your number.”

“Um…”

“You don’t know your own number? Are you serious?”

Keith ended giving up his number and not sure if he should regret it or not. He’d never met anyone quite like this girl and she was… quite frankly, a little terrifying. He supposed though if one grew up in a household with Matt and Samuel Holt it was fortunate that she seemed to have avoided all of the ridiculousness those two possessed.

Keith amended that statement a few moments later as he saw her and Matt strike some sort of pose and Lance enthusiastically joined in.

He was surrounded by weirdos.

But, his lips quirked up, he wouldn’t trade his own weird brother for anything in the entire universe.

xxx

This was it.

Launch day.

Keith’s stomach was doing flip-flops.

“Hey, kid,” Lance chuckled, hand reaching out and ruffling Keith’s hair. “You look green.”

Unlike Keith, Lance looked perfectly composed; clothed in a sharp looking gray and white Galaxy Garrison pilot uniform with his helmet held loosely at his side and an easy smile on his face.

Keith could feel his hand trembling though as it changed from the cheerful ruffle to a familiar carding gesture.

Keith threw his arms about Lance, pressing his face against the uniform to hide the beginnings of his sudden tears.

He felt more hands wrap about him then; Maria pressing in from the side to pull both him and Lance into her own embrace and Marco at his back.

“ _Ten cuidado,”_ Maria whispered.

“ _Lo haré,”_ Lance murmured. _“Lo prometo.”_

“ _Estamos tan orgullosos de ti_ ,” Marco said softly, his hand reaching up around Keith to squeeze the back of Lance’s head.

“ _Gracias,_ Papá, Mamá _,_ Keith,” Lance’s voice was choked now. “ _Te amo.”_

“ _Te amo,”_ they all whispered back.

“Heracles crew, it’s time,” sounded the voice of one of the launch operators. “Report to the ship.”

Keith’s hands tightened around Lance. He didn’t want to let go.

Something told him not to. That if he did this would be the last hug like this he ever got from Lance.

He heard Maria press a kiss to Lance’s cheek and Marco the same to the top of his head before they stepped back.

“Keith, kid, I’ve gotta go,” Lance murmured, even as his own embrace tightened.

Keith always felt so safe in Lance’s arms.                                            

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Lance said, squeezing him. “And you can grill me all you want about the mission then. And… to help you pass the time I left you a little present at home.” His hands tightened. “Consider it an early birthday present. I… I know this is a big year for you and I’m so sorry I won’t be there for it—”

“Just come home safe and we’ll celebrate then,” Keith interrupted. “That’s… that’s the only present I want.”

It was all he wanted for his eighteenth birthday. The excitement that he’d been feeling for Lance, for what Kerberos represented, was being curdled by some sense of foreboding that he didn’t understand.

It was reminding him too much of how Pop had given him the knife just before…

He shook, hands tightening about Lance.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Everything was going to be fine.

Lance let out a wet laugh. “Will do, kid.”

“Esposito! The boarding call was—”

“I’ll be right there,” Lance shouted over his shoulder. “Sheesh,” he muttered quietly. “Keith, kid, look at me,” and Keith forced himself to unplaster himself from Lance’s hug and step back so he could meet the dark ocean gaze. “I love you,” Lance whispered, bending down and pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

“I love you too,” Keith whispered.

Lance gave his hair one last ruffle, gave Maria and Marco one last tight hug, and then he strode from the bridge and towards the Heracles.

Keith watched Lance go, his shoulders back and head held high and looking every bit the amazing pilot he was and who Keith hoped someday he could be.

The image seared itself into Keith’s mind.

xxx

Lance’s present had been his hoverbike, Vanessa.

Keith spent nearly every day that summer flying her across the desert; visiting Hunk and to his surprise meeting up with Katie a few times.

She was lonely, he realized with a sharp pang. Matt had been just as dear to her as Lance was to him, but unlike him she didn’t seem to have any other friends or confidants. He had Hunk and Ina (although she didn’t really hang out with them she was someone he trusted no doubt and they had regular study sessions and met for lunch a couple times a week) and if not them then all of his other siblings (Veronica at the Garrison although it being summer it was not as often and Rachel who loved to videochat on the weekends and Luis and Lisa were just down the street for the summer with the kids and he saw MJ regularly when he visited Hunk).

Katie didn’t seem to have any actual friends.

Keith knew exactly what Lance would do in this circumstance.

And although it felt a little weird sometimes with their age gap; she only fourteen and he almost eighteen, she was quick as a whip and enjoyed a sharper sense of humor that he could appreciate, they became friends. She told him she hoped to join the Garrison too once she was eligible and he had no doubt she would get in; he’d visited the Holt home and seen her genius for himself.

She…

She would be an _amazing_ addition to his team. He wanted her as his communications officer with a healthy assist to Hunk’s engineering.

It wouldn’t happen, he knew, as by the time she entered the Garrison in two years he’d only have two years left and putting a first year with an older team would not be allowed or advisable, but later, when she had graduated too…

Something told him, that same gut feeling he’d gotten when Lance had left that flared every now and then but Keith could calm it by reminding himself of what a great experience this was and Lance would come home safe just like he had all of his other missions, that he should keep Katie close.  

His eighteenth birthday in October came with fanfare; some welcome and some not so much.

His family celebrated it, his official coming into adulthood, with a large party for all of the family and friends and Keith had been ecstatic to meet Dave’s several month old adopted son with his husband, who they had named Heath Jason, an honor to Keith’s pop.

It was the state side of things that were harder to swallow, the reminder of all he had lost eight years ago bitter.

He had access to a trust from Pop’s life insurance although he could only access so much of it a year but it was a hefty sum, more than Keith had thought.

He’d given his first check to Maria and Marco. They had tried to refuse and Keith remembered that overheard conversation of the idea of having to be paid to be kind. He’d insisted. He didn’t need the money; a full scholarship to the Garrison where he would be for the next four years anyway and then easily hired on when he graduated from the cadet program, and Keith had never wanted much. He wasn’t doing it to “pay them back” as that was something no amount of money could ever do, but rather to pay it forward.

With some planning help from Rachel he’d gotten them to take it and then take a vacation as they had never once done so since Keith had known them and if anyone in the world deserved a break it was the two of them.

He also got Pop’s house.

No one had clearly been in it since he, Lance and the social worker had come in and retrieved Keith’s belongings as a heavy coating of dust had settled over it and there was water damage in the kitchen where a window had broken, but otherwise it was just as he remembered it.

Going into Pop’s bedroom had felt like trespassing, the billowing dust as he carefully traversed inside not helping matters. The last time he’d been here…

The sudden wrenching feeling in his chest was not unexpected, but it wasn’t overwhelming either. He’d come a long way from that heartbroken ten-year-old kid. He’d found a new family, a new home, a new hope.

Pop would have been proud.

Keith spent winter break cleaning and fixing up the place as best he could, Marco helping him to install a new window and rip up the kitchen flooring and Maria had waged war on dust bunnies while Keith had hauled out ruined bedspreads and clothes and put together what survived to donate.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the house yet.

He personally had no need of it; he was more than content with his home at the Espositos and he knew once he graduated he’d be in Garrison housing so it would sit as abandoned then as it had all these years. While he did have some vague memories of the house they weren’t many in number as most of what he recalled had been at the fire station and even then it wasn’t the house that was important but the recollection.

He could sell it, but Pop’s house was off the main grid of Paulden, technically not even in the town but in the township, and it would be a hard sell, especially as more people had been moving out than moving in.

For now though he figured he could clean it up and decide its fate later.

xxx

Gordito died without warning over spring break before Keith went back to the Garrison.

The cat was nearing sixteen and had lived a good, long life, Maria had said when Keith had found him unmoving and curled up in his favorite sunny patch on the foyer floor.

Keith knew that, knew that Gordito had been getting up in years, but it was so… sudden. He’d just been cuddling with the cat, Gordito purring on his chest, last night before he’d gone to bed and now he was gone.

Lance had always joked that the cat had become Keith’s when he moved in, but it wasn’t entirely an exaggeration. Gordito was the family’s cat but he had definitely adopted Keith as his human and the two had always had something special. Just like Gordito had on that first day comforting Keith when he’d been upset, he always seemed to know when Keith needed an extra nudge and cuddle and it had meant everything to Keith in those earlier days when Lance was back at school and Keith still didn’t feel comfortable enough to go to Maria and Marco in the late hours.

They’d cremated him and kept his ashes in a little tin etched with paw prints on a shelf full of photos of family in the living room.

xxx

Keith got a summons to Commander Iverson’s office in the middle of his tactical strategy class. Hunk had looked worried as Iverson was in charge of student discipline, but Keith had shrugged; he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.

He’d actually grinned once he was free of the class because Iverson was one of the upper command that was responsible for Kerberos transmissions. Maybe… maybe he was going to actually share a message from Lance? The mission still had almost three months to go and he knew Lance had said the crew was not supposed to use the transmissions to send personal messages, but if he had done so there would be no reason not to share it, right? Just this once?

Only protocol kept him from running out of the building and across campus to the main officer buildings.

Iverson’s assistant directed him into an interior office room and Keith wasn’t surprised to see Veronica since if this was a message from Lance she’d be able to hear it too. He greeted her softly as Veronica, while friendly, was the most serious of his siblings and especially so when she was in uniform.

But her smile was warm and she got up from the conference room chair to hug him tight, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Despite both living at the Garrison they didn’t see each other all that often as Veronica worked across campus and Keith wasn’t given clearance to visit the officer’s quarters. He hadn’t seen Lance near as much as he’d like either, but the two of them had still checked in several times a week.

Iverson strolled in a minute later, lips a thin line.

Keith didn’t let that bother him; Iverson was almost never happy.

He cleared his throat and Keith leaned forward ever so on the chair, trying not to look at the screen behind Iverson where the transmission would be broadcast.

“There was an accident.”

Keith’s heart stuttered.

What?

“Our last transmission we received from The Heracles was an unintended one, activated by the ship’s black box,” Iverson continued, his words blunt and each one striking hard, “which is set only to go on when the ship has been compromised.”

No.

No.

He couldn’t be saying…

“At this time we believe The Heracles crashed,” Iverson said, “and all members of the crew are presumed dead.”

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Keith felt faint.

“At this time evidence points to a failure not of the ship but of pilot error,” Iverson said, “as all systems were functioning normally prior to the incident.” His mouth softened ever so. “I am sorry. We wished to inform the families before the failure of the Kerberos mission was made public.”

Pilot error.

Pilot error.

They were blaming Lance for the crash.

For…

For their deaths.

They were dead.

Lance was dead.

Lance was _dead._

He couldn’t be.

Lance couldn’t be—

“How long?” Veronica’s voice was deceptively flat although her hands were white-knuckled on the table, cutting into Keith’s spiral. “How long has the Garrison known?”

“We received the transmission last week,” Iverson said, “although we chose to wait to see if there was a follow up to indicate it was not as it seemed. The date of the actual transmission though was March twenty-third due to the relay delay.”

March twenty-third. That was the day Gordito had died.

Keith believed there was some truth in coincidences; it was what had brought him to the Espositos, what had spurred Pop to give him his mom’s knife.

He did not want to believe this was one.

Lance couldn’t have been dead for over a month.

Not like this.

No.

_No._

Keith stood abruptly.

“No,” he said, voice wavering even on that one syllable. “No. You’re wrong.” His fists clenched at his sides and he glared at Iverson, form blurring as tears stabbed at his eyes. “You’re wrong. Lance isn’t dead. Lance didn’t—”

“I’m sorry, Cadet,” Iverson said, and his voice was heavy. “But that is the truth.”

“No,” Keith insisted. “Show… show us the transmission.”

Show him the evidence of Lance’s death. Of his supposed error.

He heard Veronica suck in a sharp breath.

“I cannot do that, Cadet. That is classified—”

“Show us!” Keith roared.

“Cadet, sit down!” Iverson shouted back. “I understand you are upset—”

“You’re lying! You’re lying! Lance isn’t dead!”

_“Pop’s dead.”_

_“I want Pop.”_

“Cadet—”

“Show us! Prove it! Lance isn’t dead!”

_“I want Pop. I want Pop!”_

_“He can’t be… He can’t…”_

“He didn’t crash! He—”

“Enough!”

A vein was throbbing in Iverson’s temple, his face turning an ugly red. Keith took a step forward, hand fisted at his side—

And a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Enough,” Veronica echoed, her voice smaller than he’d ever heard.

Keith turned in her hold and buried his face into her shoulder, squeezing her tight.

“He can’t be,” he whispered, voice breaking. “He can’t. Veronica, he…. He… He _can’t_ be.”

He could feel Veronica swallow thickly, her chest and throat bobbing beneath him.

“Is… is there a way to confirm that this… this was not pilot error?” Veronica asked haltingly.

Keith pressed his face deeper into her shoulder.

Veronica…

Veronica wasn’t protesting Iverson’s words.

She’d already accepted Lance was…

Keith felt tears sting anew.

“I’m sorry, First Lieutenant, but those are the facts. The mission failed due to pilot error; not the ship, not the technology and not anything that the Garrison and its investors could have prevented.”

Keith felt Veronica stiffen even as his own fists clenched where they had wrapped around her, grief giving way to rage.

Money.

It was all about money and image.

Lance’s death wasn’t enough. They were going to throw his name to the wolves to protect themselves.

He wouldn’t let them.

He wouldn’t let them do that to Lance.

They—

“Understood,” Veronica answered for them both. “But Commander?” Her voice dipped to ice. “I am disappointed.”

She pulled Keith from the room then before he could say or do anything else.

She tugged him all the way down the hall, pace brisk, before she opened a door that led into some sort of officer’s quarters.

And then she broke down crying.

She cried silently, her shoulders trembling as though she didn’t want anyone to hear or see, but tears were rolling down her cheeks and lining her glasses.

Her grip was painful on Keith’s hand and he was pulled into an even tighter hug, it being her turn to bury her face into his shoulder.

Keith wondered when he’d grown so much that he was almost at Veronica’s height, who had always seemed larger than life.

He hated that she suddenly looked so small.

He hated that he couldn’t be the anchor for her as his own shoulders were shaking again and loud sobs were wrenching their way up his throat.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop.

He didn’t think he could pick himself up again.

Eventually though he could feel his own tears starting to run their course as his eyes were burning more than they were watery and Veronica's shudders were grinding to a halt.

She patted his back and released her arms, Keith doing the same, although she took one of his hands in her own and turned towards the door.

“Where,” Keith swallowed thickly as his voice was a rasp, “where are we going?”

“Home,” she said simply.

Keith followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things have happened. We’ve met Katie (who is Katie here, not Pidge, and I’m thinking not the entrance a lot of you were expecting as I saw so many Garrison Trio predictions, hehe), Lance went to Kerberos and now Lance and co. are presumed dead and Lance’s piloting is the cause. But hey, Keith did not punch Iverson! He has not been kicked out in this verse ;p But damnnnnn, ouchie. Even though we all knew it was coming that was rough.
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts below about the chapter/story. Please and thank you!


	9. Nine

_"They’re not dead.”_

Keith had been staring at Katie’s text for the better part of an hour, not sure how to respond as he warred between hope and the numbing despair he had fallen into for the last week as his family mourned around him and he…

He still refused to believe it was true.

They hadn’t even had a body to bury.

There’d been a funeral service, a small, private one of just family and friends as the rest of the world talked and whispered and “pilot error” haunted the air and their family.

As if they had not suffered enough.

But the Garrison would not go down with their ship, with the billions of dollars invested into the success of the Kerberos mission, and so they forced a single person to take their fall.

Keith had never been so disgusted.

And yet he’d found himself back on campus the Monday after the service, Veronica joining him after her bereavement leave (as though there was a quantifiable date saying how long one could grieve) because as despicable as the Garrison was for what they had done…

He refused to give up on Lance and the Garrison knew something and he was going to find it and that meant he had to go back to their campus.

He wouldn’t believe them until he had proof for himself.

Lance couldn’t be dead.

Something told him Lance wasn’t. But trying to explain that to Maria, to Marco, to _anyone_ had been met with red-rimmed stares and crumpled faces and Luis had quietly pulled him aside after another protest that the Garrison was lying, Lance was alive, and asked him to please stop, _please._

It hurt enough already.

Keith had swallowed his words then and nodded. He had nothing to back up his belief except a feeling and when compared to the might of the Garrison…

He sounded like a child throwing a tantrum.

Even if…

Even if…

And so he had grieved with his family, allowing Maria to pull him into her arms for as long as she needed, rocking him and sobbing and his hair become damp with tears. He’d gathered Sylvio and Nadia in a hug, curled up himself around Gordito’s ashes and whispered and pleaded and begged him that his death couldn’t mean Lance’s too. Gordito… Gordito had to be protecting Lance. Somehow.

He mourned and cried and something heavy settled in him with every condolence because even then, even now, he still…

He still couldn’t believe it.

Not Lance.

He’d seen Katie at both Lance’s service and then he’d attended her dad and brother’s, but they hadn’t spoken, not really, as there was nothing really they could say as their families about them hugged and comforted and Colleen, Katie’s mom, had squeezed him so tight and Keith wondered if she was picturing her own son in that moment. She didn’t blame Lance though; the pilot error at least not falling inside their own circle.

Even if it was true they would not cast blame here.

Keith had tried to do as Lance had told him all those years ago and he knew it was the truth; their loved ones would not want them to remain sad.

But he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t because he didn’t have the closure because _Lance could not be dead._

So he had fallen into a sort of apathetic cloud as the murmurs followed him even at the Garrison, of both pity and shock and some of the crueler whispers that if Lance had been a better pilot then this wouldn’t have happened.

Keith had punched that student so hard, so many times, his knuckles had bled.

He’d been given three demerits, his phone confiscated and was confined to his room minus supervised bathroom breaks for two days.

Keith hadn’t cared and spent most of it curled up on his bed clutching Lance’s god-awful ugly golden retriever tee-shirt Veronica had fetched for him from Lance’s Garrison quarters as it was cleaned out.

Hunk had done what he could; talking to Maria daily on Keith’s behalf and letting her know that he was eating, he was (sort of) sleeping, no, he wasn’t hurt… He’d snuck in good food from the cafeteria rather than the blander meals that Keith didn’t feel hungry for anyways and sat with him, rubbing his shoulder and telling him he was there.

Hunk, Keith had realized, was in some ways a lot like Lance.

It had made him cry again even though he’d told himself no more tears (no crying because Lance wasn’t dead) and they had only come harder when Hunk had tried to comfort him further.

He’d just gotten his phone back that afternoon and had found Katie’s message sent on that first day of confiscation.

He wasn’t sure if he should give in to hope.

Hope was… painful.

All he had was a feeling that this _couldn’t_ be it, that Lance could just die, just be _gone_ for over a month without the world feeling the loss of his presence.

He couldn’t have lost Lance too.

Keith swallowed.

And texted back.

xxx

Over the course of the next week he and Katie discussed for _hours_ a day, thousands of text messages (followed by a kill code designed by Katie to completely erase all of their history because they both knew this was something they wanted no record of), their plan of action.

They both agreed on one thing: the Garrison was hiding something.

It was a feeling more than factual proof and was one of the reasons Keith was keeping his plans secret from Hunk as he knew how worried Hunk was about his refusal to actually really grieve for Lance’s death.

The second reason being that they were going to be breaking several major Garrison rules and Hunk was both a stickler for the rules and also was not very good at keeping a secret. If he knew what they were doing he’d try to talk Keith out of it and if that didn’t work Keith knew he’d go to Veronica and she would make sure his plans were halted.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He had to know.

And even…

Even if all it did was confirm the words they’d been fed as truth…

Then at least they would have that.

Keith prayed though that they’d find something else. Something that proved their families were still alive.

That they could somehow save them.

Keith still didn’t quite know how that part would work but if he and Katie could expose the Garrison as liars, as there being something more to this story, than he was sure they’d get support.

Their plan was both simple and insanely complicated: Katie needed access to Iverson’s office where they knew the transmission logs would be downloaded into his mainframe and where she would then hack into it (she assured Keith she could with a little time) and then they would burn copies of the transmissions and make off with them to watch in privacy on Katie’s laptop at Pop’s house where no one would look for them.

Keith’s role in it was to both sneak Katie onto the heavily restricted base, get them to Iverson’s office without anyone spotting them and then back out safely.

There was no going back now as step one had already been completed: Katie was hidden beneath the passenger seat of Vanessa and had been there for going on four hours now.

Offense one (major): bringing a civilian onto Galaxy Garrison property

They had agreed to wait until nightfall on a weekend night as one; less security and two; Keith coming and going wouldn’t be flagged as he was allowed to do so on Saturdays and Sundays.  

Offense two (minor): curfew violation

Keith didn’t anticipate too much trouble on this one if he got caught in the residence hall as the floor monitors had already told him if he needed to use the lounge or walk the halls (other than during his two-day containment) he could do so.

Keith had both hated and appreciated the offer along with their condolences.

Still, he would prefer to avoid being seen at all and so he crept quickly but quietly through the halls, holding his breath as the elevator dinged and then finally deposited him on the ground floor.

He got out of the building without issue and stole over to the parking lot where he had a permanent spot for Vanessa, who was parked exactly as he’d left her. He knocked a closed fist gently on her side, the dull sound barely audible but sounding like a gunshot at near oh two hundred hours.

Katie poked her head up, face tight.

“I have to pee,” she whispered.

Offense three (minor): allowing the opposite sex into a designated bathroom

Keith didn’t have much of a choice though as the bathrooms were keycoded to prevent unlawful access (the Garrison was _extremely_ strict about such matters and residential floors were kept separated male to female) and he wasn’t going to take the chance of getting caught here while Katie bypassed the security code on the female one.

Offense four (major): entering a restricted building

Garrison offices were off limits to students unless they had been specifically summoned like Keith had and it would make Keith’s earlier demerits look like they had been a reward.

Keith didn’t care about the consequences. If this venture could prove Lance was alive…

He’d do anything.

Offense five (major): theft of identification

Katie had sent Keith a software program that was capable of cloning the microchip in the officers’ identification cards that allowed them access into different buildings from within a certain distance. He’d stopped asking Katie _how_ she knew how to do all of this and just went with it deciding he really, really didn’t actually want to know the answer.

Keith had run the scanner, embedded into his phone, on Commander Wozniak’s chip during lecture a few days ago and the moment of truth came now as they stood outside the building. Katie could have hacked open these doors too but she had gone on some tangent about rotating helix codes and how it would take her at least ten minutes with what her laptop was capable of running and that was time they were completely exposed to any of the night guard. Katie said she could hack into the access log once she got into Iverson’s system and delete their footprint before the night was over as well.

Keith passed his phone over the scanner and the panel lit up green.

Katie’s eyes reflected his own nauseated excitement.

Offense six (major): breaking and entering into Garrison property

Technically they weren’t breaking anything as Katie was huddled outside Iverson’s office door, laptop hooked up to the dissected keypad outside and fingers flying over the keyboard, but he knew it would look the same on paper.

Keith was to act as the lookout although _what_ they were going to do if they were caught Keith hadn’t a clue as the hallway was full of similarly locked doors and they had no good excuse to be there.

Still, he had stationed himself at the hallway intersection, palms sweaty, as Katie muttered behind him and keyboard keys clicked rapid-fire.

“Got it,” she announced quietly a very long three minutes later. “Get in.”

They slipped like shadows into Iverson’s dark office reception area and Keith guided Katie further in to Iverson’s private office and where he along with four other Garrison personnel in total had access to the entire mainframe of the Garrison.

Offense seven (major felony): accessing and downloading confidential information

Keith didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they were caught. He felt sick even thinking that much on it.

“Okay,” Katie whispered, cutting into his thoughts and setting her laptop down on the side and booting up Iverson’s sleeping computer with a hum that had Keith wincing. “I’m gonna need… twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”

“That long?” Keith hissed back.

His back was prickling uncomfortably.

“That short,” she corrected.

“Just hurry,” he replied, arms crossed and eyes hyper-focused on the door he had closed behind them and well aware they had no exit from this room except the one they had come in.

Katie was quiet as she worked other than a few muttered curses below her breath when she encountered resistance. Keith wasn’t surprised; this was one of the most secure computers in the entire Garrison and for an institution that considered their security topnotch it would provide a challenge even to someone like her.

“Hah,” she whispered nearly fifteen minutes later. “I recognize this code; this is Matt’s. Easy peasy.”

Keith let out a low breath.

Finally. A bit of luck.

And, he thought, a sign. Like Matt wanted his sister to get in, to find the transmissions.

To find him.

“I found them,” Katie whispered nearly five minutes later. “They’re… fuck,” she scowled. “They’re coded too. I can’t see which one is most recent and there’s… there’s hundreds here. God fucking damnit.”

“What does that mean?” Keith asked, heart picking up its pace again. His nails dug into his palms.

“I either need to figure out their code, which could take a few hours, or gonna have to download the entire set,” she scowled. “Which is still going to take at least an hour thanks to this fucktard of a system.”

“ _Dios,”_ Keith breathed, feeling Lance’s whisper of the same brushing across him.

They both looked as one to the bottom of the computer screen for the clock, displaying just after oh two hundred forty hours.

There would be no one coming into the offices today, Keith reassured himself, not on a Sunday. They had time. The biggest hangup was still getting Katie back to the hoverbike and hiding her away so Keith could drive her out at after curfew violation ended at oh six hundred hours.

They didn’t talk during the time except for Katie to quietly announce download status.

At sixty-four percent forty-five minutes later Katie let out a louder curse than normal.

Keith almost jumped.

“Trouble,” she growled. “Someone just entered the building.”

Keith felt his stomach drop out.

“What?”

“I’m finding out who,” she said, fingers flicking to a different monitor screen and pulling up the camera feed, of which she had already erased their entrance and illegal use of the keycard.

She paled.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ.” She turned wide honey eyes to Keith. “It’s Iverson. And he’s with the admiral.”

Admiral Sanda. The head of the entire Galaxy Garrison.

“We have to go,” she said, already unplugging her laptop.

The download bar read sixty-five.

“But—”

“Keith, we have to go. If we get caught we won’t get another chance. We’ll take what we’ve got and if it’s not there… then we’ll just have to come back.”

Keith gave a sharp nod.

She was right.

Iverson’s computer did not want to shut down quickly.

“Leave it,” Pidge hissed, shouldering her backpack as the room was still cast in a blue glow. “Last camera put them on the elevator. We have a minute before they’re here and we need to be _gone.”_

They would have to take the stairs to avoid the elevator, which were on the far end of the hall… that was a clear sightline from the hall Iverson would be coming from.

They were going to have to sprint to make it.

Those plans were put on hold the moment they stepped outside of Iverson’s office.

They’d forgotten about the disabled keypad. It was hanging wide open and broadcasting to the world that someone had clearly been there.

Katie swore.

Keith’s breath caught.

The elevator dinged in the adjacent hallway.

They caught each other’s eyes and came to a silent consensus in that second.

They were going to have to leave it.  And by doing so they would not ever get a second chance to come back because the Garrison would go on lockdown and security would be heightened at the breach and if this last transmission wasn’t one of the ones Katie had downloaded…

They would never know.

But if they were caught here then they wouldn’t even have that sixty-five percent chance.

They were going to have to play the odds.

They took off running for the staircase.

The fire door to it was locked.

Keith jiggled the handle as Katie let out a soft moan of fear.

Nothing.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

They were trapped.

“I’m sorry,” Katie whispered, grasping at Keith’s hand as he numbly took it off the handle, footsteps sounding closer and closer.

“Me too,” he said back just as softly.

They’d failed.

And now…

Now their brothers…

They couldn’t save them (could they ever have? What were they thinking? What had they just _done?)._

But…

Keith could still save Katie.

Keith squared his shoulders and stepped in front of her. He knew it wouldn’t fully protect her, she would face consequences too. But he would take whatever blame he could if it would spare her.

She’d already lost so, so much.

She couldn’t lose her future too.

“Keith,” Katie hissed, clenching his hand. “What are you—?”

“Stay behind me,” he said softly. “I’ll…” he swallowed thickly. “I’ll protect you.”

She sucked in a harsh breath.

Keith stepped more fully in front of her even as his his hand tightened about hers.

This…

This felt right.

Iverson and Sanda rounded the corner and even from the length of the hallway Keith could see their eyes widen as they caught sight of them and Iverson’s face morph into a thunderous scowl.

Keith bowed his head and awaited his judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to upload today (I’m honestly surprised by the fact the engagement/readership is going down at this point in the story but I guess it is what it is) but I really just wanted to share this chapter and make some progress towards finishing this story up, so enjoy the Thursday update. Lots of fun things happening here, I’d love to hear from you in the comments if you have a tick. Much appreciated :)


	10. Ten

“Keith, _mijo,_ what have you done?”

Maria’s whisper was horrified and Keith felt his shoulders tremble under the weight of her gaze, her disappointment, and he lowered his eyes, unable to look any longer.

It was why he startled as he felt her arms wrap tightly about him and he returned the desperate feeling embrace.

“ _Lo siento,”_ he choked out. “I just… just wanted to… to save Lance.”

And in her arms the tears he had been holding at bay — as Iverson reamed into him, as he and Katie had been strip-searched for any and all hidden electronics after their phones and her laptop were confiscated, as Iverson and Sanda had questioned him, interrogated him, as though he were the worst kind of criminal — broke free and he tried his best to stifle the sob working its way up his throat.

“Oh, _mijo.”_

Maria and Marco had been called and given clearance into the Garrison along with Katie’s mom, Colleen. All of them were sequestered into a conference room although he and Katie had been forced to wear shock bracelets that would go off if they stepped outside of the room and ordered not to speak to one another, a guard standing by to ensure the orders were carried out.

Like prisoners.

Criminals.

Keith had known there would be consequences, had known what they had done wasn’t going to be just a slap on the wrist, but the bracelets and their implications had made it all the more real.

It looked far too big on Katie’s small wrist.

As he’d already decided, Keith had taken the majority of the blame.

It had been his idea, he told Iverson, to get the transmission files. He’d coerced Katie into helping him. He was the one at fault, punish him.

He’d never seen someone look at him with such… _disgust_ as Iverson had done then.

A barely fifteen year old girl, Iverson had snarled. Keith had condemned her future as well as his own.

He’d destroyed them both.

He, Iverson had hissed, was the true stain on his family’s name. They should be so lucky, he’d whispered, that Keith hadn’t taken on their actual surname so the Espositos wouldn’t fall into clear disgrace.

Keith had punched him.

Iverson had slapped him back, open handed, and even then his cheek was still red and throbbing.

He still hadn’t cried even though Katie had, screaming that she was equally at fault, that it had been _her_ idea.

Command hadn’t believed her.

Keith was grateful for at least that. It should lessen whatever punishment for her that they deemed worthy.

The conference room door opened and Iverson strode in, an icepack pressed to his face that was already purpling.

Keith didn’t feel even the smallest bit guilty.

The room had been relatively quiet already but it turned near chilly as everyone turned to look at him although Maria kept her arms wrapped about Keith and Colleen was holding Katie’s shoulders.

“I will be brief,” Iverson said, meeting each adult’s eyes. “Your children have committed several crimes, most severe of the downloading of extremely classified data that has been approved as a Class 2 felony offense. That means,” his eyes narrowed, “five to fifteen years in state prison.”

Keith closed his eyes, having already heard this. Now it was just a matter of what Iverson and the Garrison wanted to do with it.

“You cannot be serious,” Colleen snapped. “They are children, Commander.”

Iverson pointed a finger at Keith. “He is not. He is legally an adult.”

“You touch my son you go through me,” Maria hissed, her arms tightening about him. “I… I will _not_ lose another to… to…”

Keith felt his heart break.

He’d done this.

She’d just lost Lance and now he’d…

He’d been _selfish._

“ _Lo siento,”_ he whispered again, to her, to Marco as he came over to lay a gentle hand on his wife’s back and his other on Keith’s shoulder. _“Lo siento mucho.”_

Another tear he couldn’t stop trekked down his cheek and Marco squeezed his shoulder and ever so shook his head, denying the apology.

Iverson coughed, for the first time looking a bit uncomfortable. “I… I understand, Mrs. Esposito. And despite the severity of the crime our investigation has concluded that neither your child nor Miss Holt disseminated any of this classified information and were not privy to it themselves.”

Keith could hear the bated breath in the room.

“We also took… circumstances into account as to what led to the attempted data breach,” Iverson continued. “And as such with the full weight of the Galaxy Garrison behind me I issue the following mitigated sentences.”

He turned to Colleen and Katie. “Your daughter was shown to have been coerced into committing this crime,” Keith saw Katie’s jaw visibly tick at the statement but fighting it had done nothing even though he let out the smallest sigh of relief at the statement, “and as such she is being considered an accomplice. She is permanently banned from Galaxy Garrison grounds and will not be permitted to apply for application here or any of the Garrison’s affiliates. She is sentenced to three hundred hours of community service to be determined by Phoenix officials and she is to have _no_ contact with anyone inside of this institution. Failure to comply with any of these will result in more serious consequences including prison.”

He turned then to Keith and Keith forced himself to hold that hard gaze.

“Mr. Kogane, you are hereby expelled from the Galaxy Garrison. You have also been no trespassed from the grounds and should you be found upon them you will face the same charges. You are to have no contact with anyone inside the Galaxy Garrison including your sister when she is on campus. You are sentenced a two year prison sentence to be started in six months time at the Federal Correctional Institution in Phoenix and you are under house arrest until your admittance.”

Keith felt his legs try to buckle and only Marco’s hand sliding under his arm and Maria’s tightening grip kept him upright.

Prison?

He was going to go to prison?

He’d known it was a possibility if they got caught but…

But…

Oh God.

“You can’t do that!” Katie yelled, breaking out of her mom’s hug.

“Stand down, Miss Holt,” Iverson fixed his eye upon her. “Or you will find yourself in contempt.”

“Contempt? I’ll show you contempt you motherf—”

“Katie!” Colleen snapped. Her voice broke. “ _Please.”_

Katie fell silent.

“Please,” Marco turned to Iverson. “He is a boy. Prison is—”

“It could have been a much longer sentence,” Iverson interrupted. “Five years was the original term. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful,” Maria spat the word back. “We are to be grateful? How many more sons will you take from me, Commander? How much more will you see our family suffer?”

“Then your son should have considered his actions first,” Iverson said flatly. “If you are looking for someone to blame then look only to him.”

Maria looked about to argue and Keith spoke then.

“He’s right,” he whispered, hands tightening around her. “He’s right. I…”

“Oh, Keith, _mijo…”_

He’d messed up.

He’d really, really messed up.

“I’ll have officers escort you off campus,” Iverson said in the ensuing awkward quiet. “Mr. Kogane’s belongings will be packaged and sent over to your home and arrangements will be made to have his hovercraft towed as well. More information regarding his sentencing will be delivered in the coming days. Dismissed.”

He strode from the room first, steps loud in the early Sunday morning.

One of the officers disabled the shock cuffs on Keith and Katie and then they were led from the room. Keith kept his head down to hide his tear-stained cheeks although when Katie stepped up to place her hand in his own he held it tightly.

No words were spoken.

They split at the parking lot, the guards walking them each to their own vehicles and Keith slid into the backseat.

The ride home was silent.

When they arrived Maria told him quietly to sit down in the kitchen and she bustled over to the freezer and put together a bag of ice. She sat down next to him and pressed the towel-wrapped bundle to his cheek while her other hand came up to stroke its opposite.

“You protected that girl,” she spoke softly, knowingly.

Keith jerked his head in a motion that he wasn’t sure was a nod or a shake.

“You were trying to protect our family,” she continued.

Keith’s eyes strung.

“I am proud of you, _mijo,”_ she murmured.

“I as well,” Marco said, hands coming to settle on Keith’s shoulders from behind.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispered, voice cracking. “I just… I thought…” he swallowed. “Lance can’t be…”

He still clung to the hope that Lance was alive, but…

But he would never be able to find out now, find out what the Garrison was hiding.

And given how things had gone…

It had all been for nothing in the first place.

Lance was dead. Pilot error was to blame.

And Keith had just hurt his family even more.

“We will get through this,” Marco said softly. “Together. We will… We will all get through this.”

Keith wished he knew how they were going to do that.

xxx

The fixed him with an ankle monitoring cuff the next day. He was confined to a five hundred foot space around the house for the next six months until his sentencing started in October, just a few weeks before his birthday.

He couldn’t even visit Pop’s grave.

Maria had called it inhumane, had tried to argue for allowances and had been denied.

Keith had quietly told her it was all right, even though it was not.

His siblings had come by throughout the week, gathered once more due to a tragedy.

This one had been entirely avoidable.

Keith had been surprised by the complete lack of judgment, of blame.

“ _I’d have done the same,”_ Rachel had whispered, holding him tight. “ _But Keith… he’s… he’s_ gone. _No matter what we do Lance… Lance isn’t coming back.”_

Hunk had come by the next weekend, volunteering actually to drive Vanessa back and Veronica had given him the go ahead.

Veronica…

Keith winced still at the disappointment in her eyes at his actions, even as she’d hugged him and said she would be there for him.

He had never felt lower. He could take Iverson’s anger and disgust, but to see Veronica look at him, knowing that he knew better, had hurt.

She was right though. He was a disappointment.

He’d hurt the family and he didn’t deserve all of their forgiveness.

Maria told him it was not his decision as to if he deserved it or not and he would have it regardless.

Hunk had been a mess when he’d come over, hugging Keith and crying and _why didn’t you tell me?_ when he found out what had happened even though they’d both known the why and Hunk hadn’t denied that he’d have gone to Veronica.

Keith almost wished he had.

He could have spared his family this pain.

Hunk filled him in on the campus gossip; all that was known was that Keith had been expelled due to “discipline issues” and there was a rumor going around that he’d punched Iverson.

Keith confirmed that to be true and Hunk had just stared before quietly saying Iverson’s face looked like he’d come out on the losing end of a fight and he hoped that it still hurt.

For Hunk, who didn’t like violence of any kind, it was as telling as his feelings on the matter would allow.

Keith didn’t tell him about Katie although Hunk had pressed to know who he had worked with because Keith was not a hacker and couldn’t have done all of that himself. It was safer for Katie though if no one knew of her involvement, not even Hunk.

He got a new phone two weeks later although the Garrison informed him they had the right to access all of his history and logs, preventing Keith from actually calling or texting Hunk since he was on campus and he would not get Hunk in trouble too.

He was surprised to get a text from Katie almost immediately after. It was just a picture of a dog, her family’s, with a caption of “look at him” as the dog was stretched out in the most ridiculous pose Keith had ever seen.

No doubt she knew his messages were being monitored.

He appreciated it though, to know that she was still there, okay.

He didn’t text her much though; occasionally a photo of a particularly beautiful sunrise or something he’d cooked or baked. He didn’t want her to get caught up in anything further and he honestly wasn’t sure what to say at this point.

He’d hoped and hope had failed him as surely as he’d failed not only Lance but his family.

He spent most days despondently curled up on the couch watching daytime shows with glazed eyes or sitting atop Vanessa’s hood, head tipped back as he looked at the stars and wondered if Lance had been looking at the same ones when he…

In June his parents got him a cat from the area shelter, something for him to care for, Maria had said, maybe bring a smile to his face again.

She said she missed his smile, stroking his cheek with sad eyes.

Keith knew she missed Lance’s smile more; the one that was capable of brightening an entire room.

He missed it so much it _hurt._

He missed Lance. He wanted Lance.

He would never see him again.

Keith forced himself to try and accept that, because all he otherwise seemed capable of doing was worrying his parents, of making them even more sad.

The cat was a bit of a rough thing, about two years old by the shelter’s estimates, and all black but with a shock of white on his chest and on the very top of his head.

He was missing his right front paw and had been in the shelter for going on six months and had been marked for euthanization to clear space. He’d come right up to the front of the cage though and purred and apparently nuzzled right into Maria’s hand and she had selected him immediately.

Keith thought he was perfect.

He smiled without any hold for the first time in… in a long while when the cat had scrambled awkwardly up his arm, perched on his shoulder, and then licked Keith’s cheek as though declaring him as his human.

It had been followed by more tears but they had felt… freeing. Relieved. Seeing Maria and Marco smile and laugh too had only made them come harder even as he laughed and smiled around them.

Keith was torn on a name (he’d never been good at naming things) but Sylvio had offered up his two cents and they’d settled on the name of “Shiro,” a character in one of Sylvio’s favorite animes who had white hair (and apparently meant white in Japanese) and given the cat’s white floof and starbursts and, according to Sylvio it was a “bad-ass look”, it was a perfect fit.

Katie suddenly got a lot more picture messages and Keith tried to be more present and not disappear back into that removed version of himself that he had been. His family had already lost one son, he could make sure they didn’t lose another.

Shiro became his new shadow, following him everywhere and he drew as much comfort in his presence as he had Gordito’s and although grief and guilt still hung heavy he was able to smile again, to appreciate the time he had left with his family before he…

Before prison.

For two years.

Keith tried not to think about it.

On July fourteenth Katie texted him back a picture he’d sent of Shiro several weeks before and Keith had frowned, confused. The picture was nothing special; just Shiro lounging atop the stove when he’d been cooking dinner.

Except…

Except the time on the stove clock was wrong. In Katie’s photo it read 07:16, well after dinner hour.

She’d sent another one a little later, no clock but the wood pattern beneath Shiro as he lied on the kitchen table had been morphed to another set of numbers: 0300.

Keith spent the next night outside under the stars and had not been surprised when a gentle purr of a motor had broken the night and a small hovercraft had appeared from across the backyard desert area with Katie aboard.

“What are you—?”

Keith’s question was knocked from him as Katie _launched_ herself from the bike and tackled him with a hug.

“I’m fixing this,” was her answer as she finally let him sit up. “Gimme your ankle.”

Keith’s eyes widened as he watched her gaze dart to the bracelet that was affixed to him. “Katie, no. You can’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” she said, turning to root into her backpack she’d brought. “Ankle. Now.”

“ _I_ can’t,” Keith clarified. “Katie, I… I can’t. My family…”

He couldn’t hurt them anymore and if he tampered with the cuff…

He had no doubt his punishment would be extended. He couldn’t do that to them. He’d hurt them enough.

“Keith,” her voice was hard although her eyes were softer than he’d ever seen them. “Give me your ankle.”

“No.”

She huffed out a breath and her gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up. You, the great Keith Kogane calling it quits. Fuck no. Don’t you dare pull that with me.”

“What do you think we can do?” Keith asked, alarmed to hear his voice turning high and breathy. “Katie, we got _caught._ I’m… I’m going to _prison.”_ And he wasn’t scared of that, he wasn’t.

He had never been very good at lying to himself.

“They’re _gone,”_ he choked out, closing his eyes, repeating the words he’d been hearing for months now.

Katie slapped him.

“They are not!” she said hotly as his hand flew to his smarting cheek. “They are not gone. Iverson was fucking _scared_ when he found out I’d downloaded the transmissions. He… He _demanded,”_ and Katie winced and Keith felt a sickening lurch that he’d never asked what her own interrogation had been like after they’d been separated, “to know if I’d seen them. He left the room with the drive and came back two hours later and you know what? He was fucking _calm._ You know what that means? It means whatever he didn’t want us to see wasn’t on what we downloaded. We didn’t get it. Which means there’s something there, something they’re hiding.”

Keith’s breath hitched and painful hope flared.

“I’m going to find it,” Katie continued. “I’m going back in.”

“Katie, no,” and horror was back. “Katie, you _can’t._ If they catch you, you’ll…”

Go to prison too; the words unspoken but said as though they were.

“I’m not going to get caught,” Katie said confidently. “I’m playing a long game. My mom knows,” she grinned, all sharp teeth. “She’s helping me. We’re going in, all for one, one for all. She knows the risks but she agrees. We need to do this.”

Keith blinked. “What? I don’t—?”

“I’m going undercover,” Katie butted in. “I’ll get it all. I’ll expose them, whatever lie they’d told us all. You’ll be free then and then… then we’re going to save our families.”

She sounded so _confident._ Like this was actually possible.

Like there was something to find.

That dangerous hope flared again.

“You go to the FCI on October sixth, right? I’ll have our answers before that. You’re not going there, Keith. I won’t let you. And… and I know you won’t run, I know you won’t do that to your family and I’d never ask you to,  but… but I want to disable the bracelet so… so if I need you…”

He could be there.

Keith swallowed.

“Do it.”

Katie grinned.

She explained she was setting the GPS to broadcast his home address no matter where he actually went and it would not go off if he were to step outside his boundary line. She’d proven it by dragging him across the desert behind her and his cuff remained a green light.

Keith knew even with this freedom he would remain tethered to the house until such a moment came that Katie needed him.

It was still freeing.

He’d squeezed her tight until she’d smacked at his arms that she couldn’t breathe.

She’d shown him two pictures then of her dog, Bae Bae, on her phone.

If she sent the one of Bae Bae sniffing a cactus it meant that she had the transmission feeds in full. If she sent the one of Bae Bae licking chili off a spoon it meant something else big was happening. In either case he was to report to the outskirts of the Garrison on the desert that bordered the northern edge, full of plateaus and cliffs, and she would meet him there.

“We’re going to do this,” she told him. “We’ll find them, Keith. They’re out there. And we’re going to save them.”

Hope burned bright inside Keith once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fails to amaze me at how one thing can change so, so much. Poor Keef. Prison? Get him outta there, Katie! Also, here be Shiro ♥ Originally the cat’s name was Chiquita and she was a tiny slip of a thing, but after all of the comments asking where Shiro was I changed it up. Also, character is Hitsugaya Toshiro from Bleach (my favorite as well ♥) and a little nod to my headcanon of Shiro loving anime xD
> 
> If you’re enjoying the fic I’d love to hear from you. Please drop a comment down below before you go! ♥


	11. Eleven

Keith got a text of Bae Bae eating chili just after twenty-two hundred hours on September sixteenth.

His stomach rolled equal parts excitement and fear. He’d glanced to where Maria and Marco were sitting together on the couch where all three of them and Shiro, curled up on Keith’s lap, had been watching a movie together.

He couldn’t slip out yet.

He waited until they went to sleep just after twenty-three hundred and then drafted a note, tossing each one as he wrote them. Shiro batted the paper about the room, happily distracted and not knowing the weight of the paper balls he was ripping up with glee.

How could Keith explain his absence to them if… if something happened? If he got caught?

He ended up leaving only the words “I’m sorry,” on the paper and prayed they would understand.

He prayed he returned before they even realized he was missing.

He also pleaded with Shiro not to rip that one up and the cat had blinked back at him, dark gray eyes solemn, before going back to playing with the scraps about the room.

Keith took that to mean yes.

Despite the circumstances, Keith relished the ride to the Garrison, wind whipping his hair back and billowing out the red and white cropped jacket he’d thrown on and that the Garrison had never seen him wearing. He took his mom’s knife too despite the fact he hadn’t done much more than glance and hold it a couple of times over the past few years. Something told him to and Keith had learned at this point to trust his instincts. He belted it on and the weight, though unfamiliar, was comforting.

He’d grabbed one of the decorative bandanas Maria used to put below potted cacti and stuffed it into his pocket, just in case he needed to hide his face although he had the feeling they’d recognize him anyhow.

He resolved that he would not be caught.

He couldn’t do that to his family.

But he also couldn’t stand by if Lance was out there, Matt and Katie’s dad too.

They had no one else looking for them. Keith and Katie were their only hope and he would not let them down.

He would not let Lance down.

Not again.

He’d killed the lights a couple miles out and used the moon to guide Vanessa around the bluffs and rocks, wondering how on earth he was going find Katie in the miles of landscape here. A flash of green light caught his eye and he grinned.

That had to be Katie.

He dismounted from Vanessa just below the bluff and scrambled up the short but steep incline.

A little boy stared back at him, hair cropped close to his head with thick bangs and wide glasses.

Keith blinked.

What was going on?

The boy spoke. “Took you long enough.”

Keith blinked again and then did a double take.

“Katie?”

“Sit,” she gestured, clothed in some ridiculous looking get up of an oversized green and white shirt and cargo shorts. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Katie, or Pidge, as was her undercover name, hadn’t yet gotten into Iverson’s office again, _but_ she’d called him out because of the satellite radio chatter she’d been picking up the past couple weeks.

Something strange was being broadcast, something… not from humans. At his incredulous look she’d rolled her eyes, glasses propped atop her head now, and said that they couldn’t seriously be the only living things in the entire makeup of the universe.

And… and she was hoping whoever was on the other end might have answers for them about their families.

The broken transmissions had been getting closer and although she hadn’t been able to pick up much that sounded like words they’d be familiar with over the static there had been one word repeated over and over: Voltron.

Keith had no idea what it meant.

But somehow it gave him hope.

Not only that, but the transmission was giving off a weird energy flare that her tech, she’d patted what looked like a cross between an old-school radio and television, had relayed up in spurts and it  matched the weird signal lines she’d started to pick up in the desert.

Which brought her to the next part of her announcement and she’d winced and then called out, “Hunk!”

And Keith’s best friend had emerged from behind one of the large boulders atop the plateau, looking a mixture of embarrassed, nauseated and anxious.

“Hunk?” Keith repeated. “What are you…?” His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

They proceeded to give an abbreviated version that had Katie ducking her head, cheeks pink, in which Hunk had seen the new student, Pidge Gunderson, who had reportedly transferred in from the east coast Garrison base, and was near the spitting image of the missing Matthew Holt. He’d pulled up a photo on his phone to further prove it and Keith’s mouth had dropped.

“That was your disguise? What the heck, Katie? Why didn’t your mom say something?”

“We agreed she shouldn’t know what I looked like! And I’m sorry! You and Matt have similar hair styles and I was using you for inspiration!”

“So to go undercover you make yourself look just like him? Where everyone knows what he looks like?”

“No one stopped me till Hunk!”

“Guys, no fighting,” Hunk interjected. “Please, let me just finish.”

He continued to say that he’d cornered “Pidge” and demanded to know who he was and when the student had turned to leave Hunk had reached out to stop him and…

Now it was Hunk’s turn to turn cherry and he gestured at his own chest.

“Hence the baggy shirt,” Katie mumbled.

And Keith shouldn’t really laugh but he let out a snort of amusement, which only furthered as Katie slapped his arm.

After that, and realizing that this was the Hunk that Keith had mentioned a couple times to her, Katie had revealed her identity and purpose and told Hunk that if he tattled she’d go to prison and Keith would get a longer sentence.

And despite Hunk’s inclination to follow rules he hadn’t even needed the emotional blackmail as that was the last thing he wanted and, he’d quietly admitted to Keith, that if Katie thought the Garrison was hiding something from them, if there was a chance that Lance was alive… he was in.

He’d cut Katie’s hair to what Katie was attempting to call a pixie cut to better hide her although she kept the glasses as she needed something to break up her facial plane. Plus, she’d said, running her hands over the frames, they’d been Matt’s and…

Keith understood.

She had wanted to tell him about Hunk but she couldn’t risk saying anything over text or phone and had sworn Hunk to secrecy as well until such a time that would be worth the risk. Katie felt now was that time.

The lines she’d mentioned in the desert had some severe spikes closer to where Keith’s pop’s house was located and… and they needed someone to investigate them. She and Hunk were confined to the Garrison and Hunk didn’t have his own bike so they could go themselves but since she’d disabled his tracker… he could.

“I don’t know what they mean,” Katie said softly. “They could be nothing. But… but something tells me they're important.”

“I’ll go,” Keith said. “It’ll have to be overnight, but…”

“Good. I’ll get you the schemat—”

Katie cut off with a yelp.

Keith surged to his feet, hand for some reason lighting instinctively on the knife handle at his back even though he had not a clue how to use it.

But Katie was scrambling over to her tech and he realized she had some type of earphone in. He relaxed slightly.

“Something’s coming,” she gasped, looking up from the dials. “The chatter, it’s getting louder, it’s—”

A streak of light cut across the sky and as they all watched in a sort of stunned silence it _crashed_ into the landscape on the opposite side of the Galaxy Garrison.

“Holy cheeseballs!” Hunk cried as the ground, even from this far away, rocked beneath their feet and there was a sort of _pulse_ that permeated the air.

Keith looked at the other two, meeting honey brown gazes with his own dark purple and saw the same anxious but determined hope reflected back. “Let’s go.”

They had to go slowly and doubly so as an alarm had blared and from inside the Garrison compound there was a flash of blue light. Keith had heard about such a thing, briefed his first year as a cadet.

It was lockdown in which the Garrison had utilized an electromagnetic pulse to shut off all electronics inside.

This…

This was big.

Keith’s arms prickled with goosebumps.

By the time they had navigated around the back of the Garrison in the dark with the motor on the lowest setting to reduce noise it was almost half an hour later and the Garrison personnel had already been in full swing.

There was a tent set up, a white beacon against the dark sky, and a few people in hazmat suits were walking around, pace brisk, to and from the tent to…

To a spaceship.

It could be nothing else.

Floodlights had been set up in the area showing the ship was black and purple in color with hints of silver.

It looked dangerous.

It looked promising.

They needed to get closer. Keith shifted on the outcropping they’d disembarked on but Katie threw out a hand.

“Stop,” she hissed, laptop already propped open on her knees, “gimme a second. They’ve got cameras on down there, just let me… ah ha!”

Keith and Hunk hurried behind her, bending down as Katie pulled up the two camera screens whose signals she had piggybacked on. One was a still camera facing the spaceship. The other was inside the tent and trained at what might be a bed although the figures in hazmat suits were blocking the view.

Keith’s stomach lurched with something he couldn’t quite identify yet.

“Is there audio?” Hunk asked quietly.

“Yeah, one more second, they have it on a different channel.”

“— _n_ _eed you to calm down, we’re not going to hurt you,”_ crackled a voice over Pidge’s laptop speaker.

There was someone there.

An alien?

There was unintelligible moaning in answer and then a rasp of a word.

_“Voltron. V-Voltron.”_

_“He keeps saying that, Commander,”_ came the first voice they’d heard. _“We don’t know what it means.”_

_“Outside with me, doctor.”_

Keith knew that voice.

Iverson.

His gut clenched.

And then he felt like he’d been sucker-punched and Pidge gave a little cry next to him and Hunk inhaled deeply.

Because as they pulled away from the bed they revealed the figure lying restrained on it.

“Lance,” Keith breathed. “L-Lance…”

But his brother was not as he remembered.

Not at all.

Keith still drank in the sight.

His brother…

Lance’s right arm was gone, replaced with what looked like a metal one, the likes of which Keith had never seen before, gleaming silver against the black clothes he was wearing with a raggedy purple top that matched the colors of the spaceship outside.

And his face…

A large dark pinkish-brown scar dissected it, stretching from one cheek to the other across the bridge of his nose in a harsh curve, looking painful as Lance shook his head weakly back and forth, lips gasping for air and moaning interchangeably. The motion highlighted his hair, still nearly in the same cut as before if slightly longer but now a thick white stripe took up the entire right side of his head as though someone had taken a brush and decided to paint a single patch.

His left hand, his flesh hand Keith swallowed down acid, clenched and unclenched against the restraints and his eyes were closed tight but even from here Keith could make out the telltale glistening streak trekking down Lance’s face.

His brother was _alive_.

He was in _pain_.

He was _scared._

And the remaining hazmatted person was doing _nothing_ to help him, standing by Lance’s head and typing something into a laptop while Lance continued to whimper and twist in the restraints holding him to the bed.

Keith saw red.

“No!” Katie grabbed hold of his jacket as he got up from his crouch. “Keith, wait!”

“Let go!” he snarled, yanking her hand off. “That’s Lance! He needs—”

“He needs you to calm the fuck down,” Katie growled, grabbing his arm again and nails digging in even through the jacket. “Listen!”

She’d switched the audio to the other camera Keith realized over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, and the soft strains of Iverson speaking reached him while Lance’s soft cries vanished with the change.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to listen to what that _bastard_ had to say.

Maria would have been fine with his use of language in this situation, he was sure of it.

“—vitals are elevated across the board—”

“I don’t care about that,” Iverson cut into the doctor’s words. “I just need him decontaminated so we can move him to a more secure location immediately. We’ll handle his health concerns then.”

“Yes, Sir. We’ll begin right away, Sir.”

She walked back towards the tent as another hazmatted individual walked up to Iverson.

“It’s him,” Iverson said quietly to the figure, the audio barely picking it up. “It’s Esposito.”

Keith’s breath hitched again, but this time out of anger at only the barest hint of surprise in the announcement.

How dare he.

How dare Iverson have told them all that Lance was dead, tarnish his name, when he knew all along Lance hadn’t crashed The Heracles, that something else had happened to him and the crew. They could have been out there looking for them, doing _something,_ because what had happened to them in the meantime…

Keith glanced at the silent camera of his brother, still pulling futilely against the restraints and highlighting the false arm.

His brother’s arm was gone.

Lance was _hurt._

“Quarantine him,” came the crisp voice of Sanda. “He does not exist, Commander, same as before. Once he has been stabilized we will begin our investigation; I want to know everything he knows. _Everything_.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“And summon Commander Jackson from engineering. I want that arm dissected.”

Sanda turned on her heel back towards one of the single-vehicle hovercrafts, turning her back on the scene.

Turning her back on Lance.

 _“He does not exist.”_ Her words echoed, searing into Keith’s brain.

This time when Keith took a rigid step forward Katie didn’t stop him.

“I’ve got the cameras,” was all she said, voice hard.

Keith skidded down the embankment.

_“Same as before.”_

They were going to hide Lance, pretend he was still dead, that this wasn’t happening.

_“I want to know everything he knows. Everything.”_

Keith didn’t know what type of interrogation techniques the Garrison used, but given the circumstances and Sanda’s tone…

He didn’t want to find out.

_“I want that arm dissected.”_

They were going to turn Lance into some… some _project._ His brother. They were going to keep his family in the dark, make them still think Lance had crashed, had killed two other people. They were going to _hurt_ him.

_“He does not exist.”_

_“He does not exist.”_

_“He does not exist.”_

Keith broke into a run even as he pulled the bandana about his lower face.

His footsteps were audible on the hard ground and Iverson turned from where he was headed back into the tent.

Keith’s fist slammed into his helmet and _through_ it, glass biting into his flesh.

He had no idea how he’d done that.

He didn’t care.

Keith drew his hand back and punched Iverson through the hole. Watching him collapse didn’t make any of it better but it sure did feel good.

He shook his bleeding hand out as he entered the medical tent where one of the hazmat figures looked up.

The doctor.

She screamed but Keith was already charging. He laid her out cold with a strike to the back of her head and the assistant who had stood by while his brother had cried in pain got the hilt of Keith’s knife smashed through the visor and sent him down too.

Keith was at Lance’s side within the space of a breath.

This close he could see the details the cameras had not picked up; the flush of fever on dark cheeks, skin dotted with sweat and jaw clenched, veins in his neck protruding, as he continued to writhe.

“Lance,” Keith whispered, yanking the bandana to pool around his neck. “Lance. It’s me. _Soy_ Keith. _Por favor. Por favor, despierta._ L-Lance.”

He brought a hand out and brushed it against the dark cheek, feeling the heat.

Lance stilled at the touch.

“Lance,” Keith called again, voice choked. “Lance, it’s me.”

Lance let out another moan but this time his eyelids cracked open, revealing the barest sliver of dark blue, which widened after a moment and focused on Keith’s face.

Keith almost started crying as recognition flashed across Lance’s features.

He did start when Lance spoke.

“Keith,” he rasped, his own eyes filling up. “K-Keith.”

“I’ve got you,” Keith whispered, thumb rubbing a circle on Lance’s cheek. “I’ve got you.”

Lance’s lips pulled into the barest smile…

And then his eyes rolled back in his head.

Keith was torn at this development but settled on being grateful; at least Lance wasn’t in conscious pain now.

Keith flipped the knife around and moved to slice it through the cloth restraints holding Lance to the bed.

He sliced right through the railing as though it was butter.

Keith shook off his shock, now was not the time, and set to freeing Lance’s other arm and feet from the bed. His hand ghosted on the metal that made up Lance’s right side, cold to the touch.

Cold where Lance had always been so warm.

His stomach clenched painfully and Keith tamped down the sickness and horror trying to bubble up.

Just like the knife, now was not the time.

“Oh God, oh God.”

Keith jerked his head up as Hunk entered the tent, eyes wide at the fallen figures, but they darted past them to Lance and Keith saw a steely resolution cross the normally genteel face.

“Let me,” he said, already striding across the floor to the bed.

And as much as Keith wanted to be the one to carry Lance out, to be that support, he also knew that he was not the best person for the job.

So he stepped out of the way as Hunk slipped a large arm beneath Lance’s back and another beneath his knees and lifted him up with a grunt, but he gave Keith a nod.

Keith tore back outside ahead of them and raced for his hoverbike where Pidge was already sitting and had started it up.

They were on the ground pulling up next to Hunk outside the tent within the space of ten seconds.

Keith hopped back out to help Hunk get into the backseat while still holding Lance, who was gently stirring again, brow furrowed.

“Shh,” Keith soothed, running a hand back over Lance’s cheek. “It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”

Lance let out a soft little hum, almost as though he’d heard, and he quieted down again, head pillowed against Hunk’s chest.

Keith hopped back in the driver’s seat and revved the engine.

“Where are we going?” Katie shouted at him as he tore off, wind whipping away her words.

“Home,” Keith said softly, too soft for her to hear, but Pidge gave him a knowing smile and a nod even though her face was sad.

He had found his brother while her family was still out there.

Keith resolved that they were going to get them back too.

He didn’t know how they were going to do that. He didn’t know what awaited them now, be it Garrison or aliens or whatever else saw fit to attack his family.

But what he did know was that he was never, _ever,_ going to let Lance look that scared or hurt again.

No matter what he’d gone through, what he’d seen, Keith was going to be there by his side as he healed and no one, not even the Galaxy Garrison, was going to take his brother away from him.

Keith promised himself that he was going to protect Lance, _save_ Lance, just as Lance had done for him all those years before. Lance had found him in his darkest hour and had restored his light.

Now it was Keith’s turn to do the same.

They were in this together, as family, as brothers.

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! The commissioned fic was to finish up where they rescued Shiro in canon and now we’re off to a very different twist on Voltron. I definitely see some Lion shakeups if this story were to continue into the future (Lance=Black, Keith=Blue, Allura=Red) but it wouldn’t be so simple either as you can bet the world is gonna know ahead of time about the Garrison’s coverup. Mwahahaha.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this little alternative universe divergence. I had so much fun writing it! Please leave a comment before you go; I’d love to hear your final thoughts!


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